#merlin topgun

[eri-is-online]

If google street view existed in 1986 California

(this is a reaaaalllllyyy old trend and kinda old art but i figured i should post it anyway for shits and giggles)

[torchflies]

I’m just gonna…

No one knows how the sword got there. 

It’s sitting in a huge boulder in the parking lot of TOPGUN, it’s been there since before the school, before the base, legend says it’s been there since before settlers even came to California. 

All Mav knows is that it’s been tradition for every TG graduate to try yanking the damn thing out. 

He goes last, still destroyed from losing Goose, and doesn’t bother lingering on the words etched on the base of the rock that nobody has ever been able to read, or bothered to translate for the masses. 

He just closes his hands around the base of the hilt and yanks, when it easily slips out — he assumes he’s broken it for half-a-second before it all comes rushing back. 

“Merlin.” Mav whispers from on top of the rock, staring down at Ice for the first time in a very long time. At the same time, Ice looks at him with a recognition far older than them both, a curtain finally pulled away as he furiously blinks, shaking his head in disbelief and joy. 

The rest of the flyboys too, move to encircle the rock and stare up at him — it’s not a round table, but it might as well be. 

Slider breaks out into a grin that’s been centuries in the making, “Took your sweet time getting here, didn’t you, sire?” 

Shhh… let me have this, I’ve been crying about this for two hours. 

[the-authoress-writes]

Dangerous Games

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Navy Nurse Wife!reader

Synopsis: The saying goes “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes”.

Well, Mrs. Thomas Kazansky is about to learn another version of this saying; “Play dangerous games, win dangerous prizes”.

But she doesn’t exactly mind.

Warnings: Mrs. Kazansky gets a little frisky in public, but nothing explicit, some cursing, and a little bit of steaminess, but again, nothing explicit.

Author’s Note: “I don’t write reader fic”, she said.

“I really don’t”, she said.

But here we are.

And I entirely blame both @valmare and Val himself.

I wrote this as a writing exercise, actually, because @valmare and I have slightly different approaches to Tom Kazansky; she has a more dominant take on him, while mine is more romantic and soppy, but no less passionate (I think).

I wrote this just to see if I could somehow combine both traits/takes in one story.

And… hoo, boy, I like to think I was successful.

That, combined with reading one of my grandmother’s ancient Silhouette Romance novels, I thought it was about time that the turns were tabled on the men.

Let’s be the ones to snap them like twigs, and not the other way around.

Without further ado, here we are!

“So what’s on the agenda today,” she asked her husband, as he sat at the kitchen counter eating his breakfast, while she stood on the other side, finishing her cup of yogurt, before she had to head to work for the shift she was called to fill in at the last minute yesterday.

“Well,” Tom began, after swallowing, “not much, just a meeting which apparently couldn’t wait until Monday, in the afternoon—other than that, nothing else really.

And uh, Mav and the guys are coming back home tonight; like I said last week, Sli and I were going to greet them, and they’re going out for drinks at the O Club later, but I can tell them I can’t go—”

“No, you go, enjoy yourself, I know it’s been a while since you last saw Mav and the flyboys,” she smiled.

In a rare occurrence, Mav and Tom’s deployments didn’t match up, leaving him and Slider on shore, while Mav and Merlin, Wood and Wolf were at sea.

She could hear the calls Tom would make in the evenings to the Vinson, to the various officers who owed him, already rather influential at the recently-received rank of Lieutenant Commander, for updates on Mav in particular.

She’d heard the stories both from the man himself, and from Tom, how the Mitchell name hung like an albatross around the diminutive pilot’s neck, how his basic medical needs were overlooked by dint of his “traitorous” surname.

As a nurse, especially a Navy nurse, it was beyond unconscionable.

She was glad that Mav had Tom as a friend, and it touched her to see the care he extended to his whole TOPGUN class.

“Such a Mother Goose,” Mav and Slider would say, both with sadness, but the former with a soul-deep sadness.

“Are you sure, milaya?” Tom’s voice brought her back to the present, as he came around the counter to step into her personal space, his hands on her waist, infusing her whole being with the warmth that only he could give her. “Because I’m really feeling bad that I have basically a whole day off, and you have to work.

We could have a movie night with some popcorn and ice cream, and you can talk about how people like me are the craziest sons of bitches around,” he grinned, referring to how they met a little over three years ago, after a little training mishap. “I’ll gladly keep your misery company.”

She smiled, resting her hand on the chiseled plane of his bare chest, as her index finger idly played with the chain of his dog tags, “No, like I said, even last week, you go and enjoy yourself with the boys.” Her smile took on a more devilish quirk, “Besides, you can make it up to me later.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I can, can I?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll manage,” she teasingly replied.

“Uh-huh,” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer, “and how exactly do you want me to make it up to you?”

“You’ll think of something.”

“How about a little down payment, then?”

He didn’t even bother waiting for her positive, always positive, response before one hand was buried in her hair, and his lips were on hers.

It was a kiss full of the easy confidence of a man who knew he was given what he took, and the passion and devotion of one who knew what a gift that was.

She could have gotten lost in her husband’s embrace and kiss for eternity, but the rude realization that she had a shift to prepare for, made her reluctantly, oh-so-reluctantly, push him away.

“As much as I’d really love to continue this, I can’t.

I have to go.”

He pouted like a child, the effect amusing to see on his already-full, kiss-swollen lips, and she gently carded her hand through his hair, soft and slightly curling without the gel, pushing it away from where it flopped onto his forehead. “I know most of this day didn’t pan out how we wanted it to, but we’ll make the best of it—we always do.”

“I know.

You’re sure it’s okay with you if I go out with the boys tonight?”

“Yes, Tom, how many times do I have to tell you?

Go have fun—but not too much fun,” she smiled.

He leaned forward, tucking his head into her neck, inhaling deeply, “You’re the only one I want to have fun with.”

“I would hope so, Thomas Vasilyevich,” she replied, lightly poking him in the side, “seeing as I’m your wife.”

“Oof,” he mock-winced, drawing back to look her in the eyes, “Russian naming me, huh?

Well, Mrs. Kazanskaya, two can play at that game,” he rejoined, leaning in to kiss her again.

However, she pushed him away, laughing, “You are a menace, Thomas Jacob Kazansky!

I have to go!”

“Worth a shot,” he laughed, letting her go.

She gathered her lunch into her bag, along with her paperwork, and shouldered the tote, before turning back to face Tom, who was leaning against the counter, long, sweatpants-clad legs crossed at the ankles, mirroring his arms, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Not going to kiss me goodbye?”

With a sigh, she asked, “If I kiss you goodbye, will you keep your hands to yourself?”

He clicked his tongue, “You drive a hard bargain, lyubimaya moya, but I’ll try.”

“Don’t try, just do,” she replied, amending one of Mav’s favorite sayings, stepping closer to peck him on the lips.

True to his word, he didn’t move an inch, but the regret on his face made her have to resist the temptation to kiss him and say to hell with her shift today. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

And here, a sudden idea struck her. “Hey, wait a minute, you said that you guys were going to the O Club, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, drawing out the syllable. “Why?”

“Because I was thinking that if I can, maybe I can meet you guys there, join you flyboys.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “That’d be great!”

“You guys won’t mind?”

“I won’t mind,” he shook his head.

She good-naturedly rolled her eyes, “I know you won’t mind, what about the guys?”

“I’m sure the guys won’t mind, but they can take it up with me if they don’t like it.

Try to make it?”

“I will—hopefully, I’ll see you later.

And you’re sure you don’t need your other girl today?” she asked, double checking that he didn’t need his Chevelle, since her car was in the shop that week.

“No,” he shook his head, “Slider’s picking me up, you take her.

I love you, milaya.”

“I love you too.”

With that farewell, she dashed out the door, fleeing her own house like Lot, because she knew she’d never leave if she looked back at Tom.

Chaos.

That was what her shift at NMCSD was like.

Some unlucky or hapless person somewhere had probably said “It sure is quiet around here,” or some other variation of that phrase, and brought the wrath of the medical gods down upon them.

She’d had no less than ten emergencies to deal with, and at the end of her shift, she felt—no—knew—she deserved a drink.

A quick glance at her watch showed that it was just before 1800–from her experience, the carriers usually docked at 1500 or 1600, which meant they should all be at the O Club already.

Not wanting to give the charge nurse an opportunity to call her for something else, she practically ripped off her uniform, changing into the nicer spare clothes she kept in her locker just in case she had somewhere to be that wasn’t the grocery or straight home.

It was a worn, but well-fitting pair of jeans, sensible shoes, a tank top, and finally, a white buttondown with vertical blue stripes which she pilfered from Tom’s closet, that she never saw him wear.

After throwing on the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, and tucking in her tank, she hastily walked (okay, ran) out of NMCSD, and headed to her parking spot.

God had mercy on her, as the traffic was light all the way to the O Club, the Almighty surely knowing that she’d reached her limits of bullshittery, that all she wanted after this day was a stiff drink, and her husband’s company, despite the fact that there would be others around, friends as they were to her.

It was a Saturday night, and the parking lot was full, but she managed to find a spot on the far end of the lot, a slight sheen of sweat breaking on her skin despite the AC, as she maneuvered in, not wanting to scratch her husband’s beloved car.

The flaring, insistent ache in her feet was testament to the long walk to the entrance, exposing just how many people had to be here, and true enough, once she pushed the doors open, the bar was hopping.

She moved through the crowded bar, searching for Merlin, Slider, or Tom—there’d be little hope of finding Wood or Wolf, and no hope of finding Mav, in this press of people.

She was heading through the crowd towards the bar when she smacked straight into someone.

An apology was on her lips, when the person turned, and she heard, “Hey, Mrs. Ice, how are you!”

And she looked up, up, up into the smiling face of Sam “Merlin” Wells.

“Hey, Merls, how are you, how was deployment?” she said, hugging the ludicrously tall RIO.

“Ehh, hot, as usual, but otherwise, uneventful; just running our CAPs, and buzzing the tower every now and then.”

She guffawed, “That’s Mav for you—I don’t know who’s crazier; Mav, or you, for willingly sitting in the same jet as him.”

Merlin leaned down, “Tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Probably me, because I actually enjoy it,” he murmured.

She chuckled, “Oh, Samuel, never change.”

“Hey, what am I doing, let me get you to the guys’ table!

Come on!!”

He put his hand on her shoulder to make sure she didn’t get lost in the crowd, and led her to a table in the back. “Guys, look who I found!”

“Well, hey, if it isn’t my favorite Ice Queen!” Mav cried, leaping to his feet and pulling her into a hug.

“Hey, Mav, how are you?” she beamed, glad to see her husband’s best friend and wingman.

“Better, after seeing your pretty face,” the black-haired pilot grinned a grin which would probably make quite a few people here swoon, if its full force were turned on them.

She smacked his shoulder, though she was unable to stop her smile, “Stop it, you incorrigible flirt, you’re not my type, and even if you were, I’m very happily taken.”

“Ah, you wound me, my fair Ice Queen,” Mav dramatically clutched his chest.

“You’ll live,” she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“Mind getting your hands off my wife, so I can say hello to her, Mav?”

A glance behind Mav showed Tom standing there, a sight in his summer whites, an arch expression on his face, but those who knew him would be able to see the glowing humor in his eyes—but over all, the joy and love.

Mav moved aside, gesturing grandly at her. “All yours.”

“You bet your ass, Mitchell,” Tom nodded.

“Excuse me, I have a very nice ass, I have that on good authority,” the other pilot affrontedly stated as he walked backwards to his seat.

The voice of Charles “Chipper” Piper called, “Ugh, come on, Mav, no one wants to hear about your pasty ass.”

“You’re one to talk, Chip,” Marcus “Sundown” Williams chuckled.

Tom shook his head and stepped closer, making everything else fade into the background, his beautiful smile on his face. “You came.”

“I needed to,” she sighed, “I need a drink.

And the whole you being here is a nice bonus.”

He blushed slightly, ducking his head. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, come on, let’s get you that drink,” he replied, leading her to the table, around which sat Mav, Merlin, Slider, Wolf, Chipper, and Sundown.

“Hey guys,” she waved, taking the seat beside Tom.

They all greeted her as Tom called over one of the waitresses, ordering his usual vodka on the rocks along with her usual Old Fashioned.

When it arrived, she shocked them all by drinking more than half of it in one sitting, heavily setting the glass down on the table.

“That kind of day, huh, sweetheart?” Tom asked, his voice full of sympathy, warmth, and the slightest hint of laughter.

She turned a baleful look on him. “What do you think?”

He blinked, obviously weighing his words, the rest of the flyboys holding their breath. “I think maybe I should get you another one when you’re done with that.”

“God, I love you, Tom Kazansky,” she breathed.

The table collectively exhaled, as Tom grinned. “Aren’t I lucky?”

The night wore on, dinner eventually being ordered from the bar’s kitchen for everyone, and Merlin was the first to leave, saying that his wife was coming home late that night from taking care of a medical emergency with her mother, who lived on the other side of the States, and he wanted to be there to greet her.

The flyboys tossed peanuts teasingly at Merlin, Chipper and Mav whooping, Merlin flipping them the bird with both hands as he laughed, and said goodnight.

The remaining group continued on, and the vodkas Tom had drunk had loosened him up—he wasn’t drunk by any means, but his laughter was a bit louder, his eyes a bit brighter.

He was telling a story about one of the instructors from the TOPGUN session he’d been asked to help out with, since he wasn’t deployed this rotation.

It was a story she’d already heard, and so she allowed his words to fade slightly, just watching him as he spoke, fiddling with the straw of the second Old Fashioned Tom had ordered for her.

She smiled as he gestured animatedly, making the light glint off the gold ring on his left hand, which matched the one on hers.

Seeing it did funny things to her stomach, seeing the tangible proof that that man was hers.

Add to that the fact that Tom was in his summer whites… it was a cocktail more intoxicating than anything the bar behind her could ever offer.

She exhaled evenly, taking a sip of the water she’d switched to after her second Old Fashioned, admiring the figure he cut, an exemplar of US Naval excellence.

If you asked her later, she wouldn’t be able to tell you why she did it.

But the devilish thought of wanting to see if she could tilt him off-kilter entered her mind regardless, and she hid a smile behind the rim of her water glass.

She nonchalantly shifted her chair closer to Tom and innocently placed a hand above his knee, making him glance at her, and offer her a fleeting smile, while continuing the story.

Ever so carefully, she inched her way towards the inseam of his trousers, rubbing small circles as she went, which got her a minuscule narrowing of his eyes and a barely-there glance as he spoke.

She smiled back, stilling her hand, and he continued.

Once he had relaxed into his chair again, she began moving again, shifting her hand higher and higher, letting her fingernails catch repeatedly on the seam.

He cleared his throat and soldiered on, shifting in his seat, but the slightest tone of strain was beginning to creep into his voice now, and she mustered all the stoicism she’d learned from her husband to keep her face straight.

As her hand moved further up his inseam, she was treated to the sight of his jaw tensing, the sheen of sweat gathering at his temples, the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, the sound of the strain in his voice, and the hitch in his breath.

She knew that if she continued this, she was playing a very dangerous game, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment.

So she inched further up, letting her fingernails dig into the seam, flicking it almost audibly, which elicited a cough from her husband.

Slider whacked Tom on the back, saying, “You okay, Ice?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, “just—just swallowed the wrong way.”

At this point, she was mere inches away from being so obscenely high on his thigh that the other flyboys would probably see, but just to see what Tom’s reaction would be, she made as though she were going to go there.

Smoothly, he placed his hand atop hers, somehow managing to conceal the fact that he had plucked her hand from basically his lap, bringing it up to his lips as he finished the story, his eyes stormy as he cut his gaze to her.

Maybe, she realized, as she looked into his tempestuous eyes, maybe she had made a very, very big mistake.

After another hour, they began to wrap up, hugging and slapping each other on the back, and for the first time since she’d met Tom Kazansky, she was not looking forward to being alone with him.

When the final farewells had been spoken, Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulder, walking them towards the distinct shape of his Chevelle, visible now that they were some of the last people at the bar.

“I can drive us, if you want,” she offered, testing the waters.

“No, I’ll be the one.

Keys.”

His tone was unreadable, and she fished the keys out of her pocket, handing them to him.

He led her to the passenger’s side, but just before she reached for the handle to open the shotgun door, she found herself pressed against the back passenger door, looking up into her husband’s face.

She refused to buckle at his impassive stare, looking evenly into his eyes; depthless blue, the color of the sea at twilight, in the dim illumination afforded by the streetlamps.

His hand shifted, and her breath hitched, but he only moved his hand past her, the familiar click of the Chevelle’s door release echoing in the thick San Diego night air.

Tom pulled the door further open, inclining his head and stepping back.

She swallowed, but moved to sit in the passenger’s seat, the sound of the shutting door feeling like some sort of passage of sentence.

Moments later, he opened the driver’s side door, sliding in and shutting it, however, he didn’t start the engine.

She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next, but he only started the car, the purr of the Chevelle doing nothing to ease her tension, serving only to ratchet it up, the familiar streets leading home passing by.

The silence in the car was almost a living entity, made worse by the fact that Tom kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road before them, and she would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t racing.

She was beginning to see the reasoning behind her husband’s callsign, between his nonchalant attitude and his unerring patience to wait her out, wait for her to slip.

Well.

She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

…

She hoped so, at any rate.

She’d always been weak for him, honestly, and she suspected she always would be.

Much too soon, they pulled into their driveway, and Tom cut the engine, leaving her in silence, literally and figuratively, as he stepped out without a word.

She briefly debated whether or not to stay in the car, but knew deep down that that was not an option, so she got out of the Chevelle, also making her way inside.

After locking up the doors and checking the rest of the house, she exhaled and looked warily up at the stairs. “‘Screw your courage to the sticking place,’ woman,” she murmured, striding determinedly up the stairs.

The lights were on in the bedroom, and she saw Tom at the dresser, keeping his submariner in its box, his face somehow still impassive.

She moved to the bed, picking up the pile of night clothes she’d laid out that morning, muttering, “I’m going to the bathroom,” and darted towards the en suite.

However, before she could make it there, a hand wrapped around her upper arm, and once again, she got the breath knocked out of her, finding her body pressed against the wall behind her by the solid mass of her husband before her, his hands on either side of her head.

“What was that about tonight, hmm, milaya?” he spoke lowly, making a shiver run down her spine.

“What was what?” she replied, affecting a light tone.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he replied, implacable.

“Oh, that,” she shrugged, caving slightly.

“Yes, that.

And just what were you thinking?”

“Ehhh—nothing much, really.” Well, she mentally admitted, that much was true.

“Uh-huh.

See, I think you were trying to get me to lose it,” he declared.

She somehow managed to muster up an innocent expression. “Uh, nope, not at all.”

“Sure.

So your hand at my inseam was just complete coincidence, was it?”

“Has to be.”

He stared her down just like he had in the O Club parking lot, attempting to keep his expression stoic, but this close, she could see his eyes—how there was only a thin ring of midnight gray, his pupils blown wide from the desire he was trying to keep down.

She inhaled sharply, her lips parting, and his gaze immediately locked onto the sight.

When he spoke next, his voice was low and trembling. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I have some kind of idea,” she breathlessly murmured.

“Fuck—” he whispered brokenly before kissing her like he was at 38,000 feet and she was the oxygen he needed to breathe.

Caught in his riptide, she was helpless but to hold onto him.

Air surged back into her lungs as his kisses moved down to her neck, only to be stolen from them moments later, a cry halfway between pain and pleasure carried on her breath, when his ardor seared into the delicate skin there.

“That hand of yours—and you wearing my shirt—you drive me crazy,” he spoke into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“I think you like it, though,” she whimpered, hitching her legs around his unfairly narrow waist, as he adjusted his arms to hold her up.

“Damn it, I fucking do,” he groaned, moving them towards the bed.

They had just collapsed onto the comforter, kissing like teenagers, when he broke away to breathe, “You’re still going to pay for what you did, though, you’re not getting out of that.”

“Oh, am I, because it seems to me like your mouth is writing checks your body can’t cash… Commander,” she cocked her eyebrow.

His jaw dropped slightly, followed by a shaky inhalation. “…I shouldn’t have told you about my rank thing.”

Her smirk was halfway to a grin by now. “What are you going to do about it?”

He tilted his head. “You’re asking for it, at this point.”

“Well, then, do what you’re going to do, flyboy; that’s an order.”

A wicked smirk quirked the corner of his lips, full of promise. “Yes, Ma’am.”

NMCSD: Naval Medical Center San Diego

The USS Carl Vinson is a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier commissioned in 1982, and she is still on active duty.

I stole @valmare’s headcanon that Tom drives a Chevelle, because if it’s good enough for Mir, it’s good enough for me!

I’m so sorry Mir!

According to a production photo, Tom’s full name is Thomas Jacob Kazansky, but since I headcanon him as Russian, his patronymic is missing.

So thusly, you have Thomas Jacob Vasilyevich Kazansky.

When Mrs. Kazansky refers to Tom as Thomas Vasilyevich, that is considered a casual, informal, yet somehow in its own way, formal, method of referring to someone.

There’s cultural rules about that.

Tom calls Mrs. Kazansky “Mrs. Kazanskaya”, which follows the Russian and Slavic convention of gendered surnames.

CAPs: Combat Air Patrols

Summer whites are the white version of the khaki uniforms, and you can see them in The O Club bar scene in Top Gun ‘86.

“Screw your courage to the sticking place” is a quote from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”.

Did I basically steal a line from Top Gun, and completely change the context of it?

Yes.

Yes, I did.

Mrs. Kazansky calls Tom simply “Commander” instead of Lieutenant Commander, because of the convention regarding “double-barreled” ranks.

Russian Glossary

Disclaimer: endearments and translations taken from Google—please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong, which, odds are, I am.

Milaya: dear, darling (there are other translations of this word, however)

Lyubimaya moya: my darling/my one and only sweetheart

Taglist

@valmare

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

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

(during Rooster's original time at TOPGUN, the 86'ers (sans Ice and Mav) have a big video call)

Wolfman:...Alright, this meeting of the "Ice & Maverick Support Group" will now come to order. Chipper, read us the minutes from the last meeting.

Slider: - Sorry guys, but I have some pretty big news that can't wait.

Wolfman: In a MINUTE, Slider...!

Slider: IT. CAN'T. WAIT.

Wolfman: OK, fine. So, what is it?

Slider: Well, you guys know Baby Goose is in Top Gun now...

Hollywood: - His callsign is "Rooster"! I love the bird theme...

Slider: - Yeah, well, anyway - I've been talking to Ice about his progress, y'know since Bradley isn't talking to Mav right now -

(mass grumbling from all the 86'ers)

Slider: - And I've corresponded with some of the instructors over there, also, to get some details that maybe Ice may not even be aware of...

Merlin: - How would Ice not be aware of anything that happens with Bradley?

Slider: - Well, just that there may be some details that Ice isn't aware of because the instructors don't think it's relevant to tell him.

Chipper: OK, and...?

Slider(takes a deep breath):...Guys, Bradley has an Iceman.

(the 86'ers erupt in a chorus of "NOOOO...!" and loud groans, some of them are literally banging their heads on their desks)

Slider: Apparently the two of them like to "maintain eye contact" to "intimidate each other" and "size each other up".

Sundown(grumbling): Yeah, I'll tell you exactly what they're sizing up -

Wolfman: - SUNDOWN!!!!

[atuzbaiting]

Oh no. I ship slider with merlin 😢

The real princess/baby-girl.

[blazingstar29]

Headcanon that Slider and Ice love how smol pocket sized Maverick is. They do every thing they can to make sure they can always lift him up and plop him on their... hip 😏. So even when they have a full desk job, they are still the fittest of admirals around because y'know. And Maverick gets hot for how they can manhandle him whenever but he likes to give them a challenge sometimes so he gets really good at squiriming out of their hold.

*taking notes* manhandling maverick…

I have my own HC that Slider eventually becomes a commercial airline pilot, but even then…Just six foot something buff ex-navy commercial pilot and his maverick backpack- I mean personal carry on.

Slider is taller than Ice so he’s got more leverage for some more creative ways of carting Maverick around, though Ice still gets his entertainment in.

Maybe a year or so after TOPGUN and they’re bored on a carrier, they figure out they can play helicopter with Maverick because the guy just doesn’t get motion sick. They take turns spinning around whilst holding Maverick by his ankles and for some reason they guy finds it fun. There’s also no gym onboard so after a while the running gets boring and they figure out Mavericks around the same length as a barbell. And whilst he’s no where near the weight any of them lift on the regular, they all have great core because he moves around. It becomes normal to see Maverick sitting cross legged on Slider’s back as he does push ups or for him to be clinging to Merlin’s torso as the RIO does squats. Ice of course is the only one who’s allowed to bench him because of the…hand holds he has to use.

Eventually Maverick gets bored of being the equipment all the time so he decides to start getting his own back. Merlin is his own personal climbing gym, that guy is enormous. But he gets Ice to support his legs as he tries to learn to do near verticals push ups and hand stands.

And when they’re back on shore and all alone, there’s other less innocent ways of making use of their size difference…

[thatsrightice]

chapter 2 word count: ~4k

main themes: iceman angst, icemav, major platonic slice, hurt/comfort, big fluff, flyboys being flyboys, military-accurate (hopefully), aircraft carrier, everyone needs a hug (especially iceman), takes place a couple months after top gun, things will get worse before it gets better, emotional pain, maverick & iceman are oblivious af until they aren’t

pain: imminent

summary:

"In light of the current political climate and recent events, we put in a request for an additional crew to be sent to fill the gap in personnel and help us finish out our cruise. With previous experience in our squadron and one hell of a reputation, I would like everyone to welcome back from TOPGUN Pete “Maverick” Mitchell and Sam “Merlin” Wells. Boys, thank you for coming on such short notice.” Maverick slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder at Marco. Marco immediately looked away and Maverick bathed in how glorious it felt to be on the other side of the situation

[crossthread]

Literally what the fuck do I do with myself right now??? I just finished reading @compacflt 's series Easier Done Than Said and I've completely lost my mind. It's so good. There might be nothing else as good as that series on earth rn. I need more. I'm dying. I've completely lost all of my shit and also all sense of direction. What do I do now. What the actual fuck.

Anyway anyone who sees this. Please recc me some more fics. Any fic. Doesn't have to be a topgun fic at this point. It just has to be beautifully written masterpieces that when you reach the end you're like, what the fuck is happening where am I omfg what did I just read holy shit type of feeling. Please. Save me from myself. I feel like an addict coming down from the latest high rn, which honestly doesn't seem to be too far from the truth.

Fandoms I'm in are: stucky, teen wolf, topgun, dc in general, also probably marvel in general, tlou, star trek, witcher, bnha, hp, hannibal, Merlin, stranger things, and several more that I can't think of from the top of my head. Put me out of my misery, please.

[uss-kittyhawk]

V.2 of my "Top Gun" Fun fact/Info ramble

(@vivwritesfics here's more, apologies for the tag, just tell me if you don't want to be tagged in any other fact posts I might make)

prev post:

TOPGUN is a nickname for what began as the United States Navy Fighter Weapons School and is now known as the United States Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Instructor Program. Formerly located at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar in California, TOPGUN is now located at Naval Air Station Fallon, Nevada. A media account of a TOPGUN class formed the basis of the movie 

A radar intercept officer (RIO) is a naval flight officer who occupies the rear seat of such aircraft as the F-4 Phantom II and the F-14 Tomcat. The modern-day equivalent of the RIO is the weapon systems officer (WSO), who is the back seater in the U.S. Marine Corps' F/A-18D Hornet and the U.S. Navy's F/A-18F Super Hornet. WSOs are depicted in Top Gun: Maverick.

Mav's Dad's name was Duke

It is thought that Duke is a reference to former U.S. congressman Randy "Duke" Cunningham, who is a former TOPGUN instructor and the only��U.S. Navy pilot ace in the Vietnam War.

One of the unused callsigns 'Tombstone' can be seen on a black fighter pilot helmet with three red arrows in promotional photos featuring Jerry Bruckheimer and Don Simpson.

In several locker scenes, one of the lockers is labeled as belonging to "TEX". This is the callsign for one of the top gun instructors and MiG pilots that worked on the film, Lt. "Tex" William Spence.

The callsign 'Ghostrider' that Maverick uses for his plane was the name of a real F-14 squadron (VF-142), and a model of a Tomcat from that squadron can be seen behind Sundown in the shot where Maverick tells Slider he stinks.

In early drafts of the film, the character (Tim Robbins) whose call sign is 'Merlin' actually had the last name of Merlin, and his call sign was 'Wizard'.

Other real names of the pilots/RIOs were that are not otherwise mentioned in the movie, but only by their callsigns are: Hollywood: LT Rick Neven; Wolfman: LTJG Leonard Wolfe; Slider: LTJG Ron Kerner; Cougar: LT Bill Cortell; Merlin: LTJG Sam Wells.

James Tolkan's character is referred to as "Stinger" in the credits, but is never addressed by anything other than "Sir" throughout the film.

The call sign 'Sundown' is actually a reference to a squadron of F-14s called the sundowners that have the same sundown graphic on their tail fins as on Sundown's helmet.

Anthony Edwards is the only actor who didn't vomit while in the fighter jets.

When Maverick receives his orders to the carrier following the graduation ceremony, there is a pilot standing behind him, with a mustache and wearing sunglasses. The pilot is "Heater" C.J. Heatley, a real-life former F-14 air show demonstration pilot and TOPGUN instructor.

Tom Cruise actually had to wear lifts in his scenes with Kelly McGillis. Cruise is 5'7" while McGillis is 5'10".

The piano scene and the final bar/jukebox scene were shot in a San Diego restaurant called Kansas City BBQ, at the corner of Kettner Blvd and W. Harbor Drive. The restaurant housed many props and memorabilia from the film, including the jukebox and Maverick's flight helmet sits behind the bar in a locked display case. However, on June 26, 2008 Kansas City BBQ suffered a grease fire that destroyed much of the interior of the establishment. The restaurant has since been repaired to its original state, but all of the original Top Gun memorabilia on display was lost. (which SUCKS)

The scene where Maverick follows Charlie into the bathroom was filmed at the Headquarters Building at Recruit Training Command, San Diego. The Naval Training Center installation was later demolished in the late 1990's to make way for more Navy housing. Before the headquarters building could be inspected for demolition, the bathroom counter that "Maverick" leans on and "stress tests" was stolen (wonder who has it and have they "used" it??)

Riding on the back of this film's success, the US Navy set up recruiting booths in the major cinemas to try and catch some of the adrenaline charged guys leaving the screenings. They had the highest applications rate for years as a result.

^^it was later figured out that the volleyball scene was the most memorable....(the navy has the largest gay population of the U.S. Military)

The love scene between Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis was filmed after initial test screenings. Moviegoers complained that there was no love scene, so the company obliged. McGillis, however, had already dyed her hair darker for her next film. This is why the scene is tinted blue.

The motorcycle ridden by Tom Cruise in the movie is a Kawasaki Ninja 900 / GPz900R, then the fastest production motorcycle in the world.

The film was originally going to have a scene near the end where Maverick visited Goose's grave. A filmed version of this scene was never released, however still screen shots from what such a scene would have looked like are available on the special edition DVD.

^^and i'm pretty sure that's the one I have, but Idk how to get the footage off of the dvd, my laptop doesnt have a dvd slot

Filming and clapperboard of Top Gun on July 5, 1985.

In July 1985, Kansas City Barbeque served as a filming location for two scenes. The first scene features Goose and Maverick singing "Great Balls of Fire" while seated at the piano. The final scene, where "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" can be heard on the restaurant's jukebox, was also filmed at the restaurant. Both scenes were filmed consecutively. After release of the movie, the restaurant went on to collect a significant amount of memorabilia from the motion picture until a kitchen fire on June 26, 2008, destroyed much of the restaurant. Some memorabilia and props, including the original piano used in the film, survived the fire, and the restaurant re-opened in November 2008.

And that is all i have for now (July 4th, 2024) If you have any facts you'd like to share, my inbox is open. You are also free just to chat there too. Thirsting over Characters/Actors is also welcome.

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

Ask me for my TopGun family!

Pete

Nick

Tom

Ron

Sundown

Chip

Cougar

Merlin

Hollywood

Wolfman

Bradley

Jake

Robbie

Javy

Natasha

Penny

Amelia

MavDad

Popsicle

Here's another selfship f/o ask game! Feel free to use for your own self ships (and feel free ask me any if desired, just let me know which f/o and question)! Have a great day everyone 🫶���

💥 1: What is something fun you and your f/o have done together? It can be an activity, a silly moment, a good memory, etc!

🫂 2: What is something your f/o does that makes you feel loved and supported?

❤️‍🔥 3: What's your f/o's favorite trait about you?

😌 4. What do you and your f/o do together to relax or unwind?

✨ 5. What hobby or activity do you and your f/o do the most together or tend to enjoy doing the most together?

🍰 6. What sort of fun or sweet nicknames do you and your f/o have for each other?

🔥 7: In what ways does your f/o make you feel excited, giggly, happy, or positive?

❤️‍🩹 8. What is a deep or special memory between you and your f/o that means a lot to you/them?

🧠 9. What is something you love listening to your f/o talk extensively about, and what do they love hearing you elaborate on?

🥹 10. What is your f/o's favorite thing about you?

💫 11. What is your favorite compliment that you've ever received from your f/o?

💌 12. What is your f/o's love language(s)? (Gift giving, words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch, acts of service.)

🌿 13. What's something that reminds you of your f/o? It can be a meme, a song, an aesthetic, anything that gives off their energy/vibe/reminds you of them!

☀️ 14. In what ways do you and your f/o make each other's lives more positive?

💬 15. Why are you so thankful for your f/o, and why are they so thankful for you?

[eri-is-online]

Happy birthday to Tim Robbins, or as tg Tumblr knows him, Merlin!

The best 5 minutes of screen time to grace us!

[127-lz]

Unfinished but

✨the boys✨

🎀and girl🎀

[turbobuckeye]

"Good morning gentlemen, the temperature is 110 degrees." Its #TopGunDay! #TopGun #May13 #May13th #Goose #Maverick #Iceman #Slider #Charlie #Merlin #NeedForSpeed #DangerZone #TomCruise

[mrsjavymachado]

icemav headcanons

**important to note

-goose lives, just injured after the canopy incident so mav still flies with merlin for the mission and icemav still become wingmen

-most of these are set after they all graduate top gun

ice and maverick have always thought the other was attractive, it wasn’t a very well kept secret if their time at topgun was any indicator, and anybody with eyes could tell that they wanted to be with each other and finally, finally they fell into bed together after months of dancing around eachother and their feelings and it was eye opening for the both of them. mav looked ready to bolt when he woke up next to him because ice meant more to him than a quick fuck but he didn’t know how to tell him that and didn’t want to fuck anything but between them, but ice held onto him with, the patience of a saint knowing that he’d just gotten maverick to see his feelings and he wasn’t letting him go anytime soon.

they talked it out with only a few shed tears before maverick pushed ice back down onto the bed and showed him just how much he meant to him. (mav called goose and told him everything, with carole right there behind him chipping in and adding her own comentary) (apparntly goose owed her five dollars because she knew that it was going to happen soon after the mission, goose thought it would’ve happened taken months) (mav rolled his eyes at gooses’ lack of faith in his ability to get with a guy he liked but didn’t rebut it because he never thought he’d get here with ICEMAN of all people)

mav and ice do NOT take things slowly, as neither of them are known to be passive about what they want. they already spend most of their time together during the day as their stations together, but now they have an excuse (they didn’t need one before) to spend even MORE time with eachother and they are insufferably in love.

ice who drinks coffee in the morning not because he needs it to wake up, but because he likes the taste. mav who needs coffee to even think about starting the day, so ice, who wakes up first, makes mav’s coffee first then his own. (he likes seeing mav all soft and sleepy in the morning, and he’s always rewarded for his efforts with a happy grin, a soft kiss to his cheek and a “thanks sweetheart,” in mavs delicious morning voice, but he likes to say it’s because it’s the only time mav isn’t running his mouth)

mav runs warm but ice, ironically, runs warmer, so they buy the best a/c money can buy because ice is a tactile mother fucker and can’t sleep without at least one limb touching mav at all times.

everytime ice gets deployed somewhere different than mav (which is hardly ever because the navy recognizes how fucking good they are together) maverick relishes in the free space because while ice curls up to go to sleep, mav spreads fucking eagle. legs and arms out starfish style (though he is always very happy to have his personal extra limb back in bed with him)

ice sleeps on the left and mav sleeps on the right, though sometimes when mav gets sick or ice isn’t there, he’ll sleep on ice’s side.

ice rarely gets sick, he has seasonal allergies that he takes medicine for but when he does get sick he gets SICK. he’s coughing and hacking and he can’t breathe and everything that could go wrong goes wrong. mav always knows when ice is sick because he gets cold and clammy and miserable.

ice never takes being sick seriously and will try and go back to work without much care and it takes mav (and slider usually) to coerce him back to bed with a good book and promise to keep with updated on any changes back on base.

mav on the other hand sneezes twice in a row and swears he’s dying, but he’s just dramatic. mav gets sick A LOT. the weather changes and he’s down with a head cold. he’s also allergic to cats and ice’s family has three fat, spoiled tabbies named mimi, stella and princess and they LOVE maverick.

however, poor mav can’t even be near anything they touch because he’ll break out in hives. he will however down as many benedrill as he can and play with them because he loves them just as much.

his attempts to convince ice to let them get a cat always end in a resounding no, because ice actually likes having his boyfriend not in severe medical distress because a cat so much as looked at him

being sick is one thing but when it comes to the big stuff like injuries, broken bones and the like, no one takes it more seriously than ice. as soon as something feels off, ice is at the base hospital asking them to look over it, he doesn’t want to jeopardize his flying at all.

on the other hand mav gets such an adrenaline kick whenever he’s in the air that he doesn’t feel any injuries until it’s too late.

once he wasn’t strapped in properly in the tomcat and tuned a corner so sharp he rammed his elbow against the canopy and it shattered. goose heard a sickening crack come from mav’s general direction and the groan that he let at the turn and immediately told mav that he had to land the plane. mav asked goose if he was okay and all goose could do was gape at his idiot of a best friend becuse there’s no way that if goose heard the crack from somewhere in mav’s body over the roar of the engine that mav wasn’t feeling at least something.

eventually, after he got mav to land after he stubbornly stupidly insisted he was fine and that he needed to finish his training, goose flagged down medical and when they arrived mav’s flight suit was drenched in blood at the arm and he was leaning on goose just trying to breathe through the pain because the adrenaline he had from flying was gone and the pain kicked in real fast and all he remembers is someone touching his elbow and how much it burned and white hot pain coursed through his body .

he’s told later in the hospital that he passed out, eyes rolling back and that with his maverick fucking luck he actually landed on his elbow, injuring it more before anyone could catch him. he then passes out again, though this time it’s medically induced by anesthesia as he’s being prepped for surgery.

the next thing he knows he’s waking up in a hospital room on base with a cast on his elbow and ice sitting at his side. once he’s wake ice looks at him for a few seconds, looking at him worriedly as he breaths out a soft, “jesus mav,” under his breath. then remembers he’s upset with maverick and loudly recalls all the details for him and yells at him for 25 minutes for being so stupid for keeping himself in the air injured and bleeding and how one day he swears mav will kill himself in the cockpit and when he does ice will dig him up and kill him himself because, “pete you’re not dying by anyone’s hands but mine.” and mav stopped listening because ice had obviously not realized the slip but maverick did and wow did it make his heart beat faster because that was the first time ice had said mavericks name. not mitchell, not maverick but pete.

so pete leaned up and smiled so wide it made ice pause because there’s no way mav was smiling through his lecture (if being called a reckless fool by your boyfriend was considered lecturing) and then he felt mav pull him by shirt collar with his good hand and kiss him speechless. “that’s the first time you’ve called me pete, tom.” and wow ice loved hearing his name on mav’s lips so he just smiled back, “yeah, well maybe ill do it more if you aren’t so stupid.” and all mav could do was laugh and kiss tom again within an inch of his life.

goose, who came to visit with bradley just sighed and covering his kids eyes and clearing his throat loudly. ice and mav jumped apart quickly and blushed, before mav smiled as bradley (who’d been let down by goose once they’d separated, smiled widley at his godfather, “MAV! daddy said you got hurt cause you were dumb so im here to make you feel better!” and ice chocked out a laugh as mav shot his best friend a look, “oh did he, well your daddy must love me very much if he brought my favorite godson over to see me” and goose and ice just rolled their eyes fondly because mav and bradley did this little routine so often it was second nature, “but mav im your ONLY godson.” “that’s why you’re my favorite baby goose.”

it made mav and bradley happy so no one had to heart to tell them it was a corny joke, because it was cute to see mav so happy. everyone could tell just how much he loved the kid and bradley loved his godfather just as much.

mav smiled wider, if that was possible, and picked bradley up with his good arm and placed him on his lap. ice sat next to the two of them and goose on the chair beside of mavericks bed, and the four of them just chatted, well it mostly consisted of goose and ice ragging on mav for being a bad influence of bradley, and for being dumb in general (calling him a dumbass in as kid friendly a way as they could) when carole was about to join them and saw just how happy and relaxed they all were, so she snapped a picture of them, which made them all turn to her at the flash. “whatcha up to honey?” goose had asked as he called his wife over to join then and pulled her on his lap, “oh nothing, just admiring our family.”

and if ice’s smile got a little wobbly at being included by the most important people in his boyfriends life, then no one else had to know but him.

[qin-ling]

hi - for the icemav prompt fic i was hoping to request either number 19 or number 63 !! (i cant remember my tumblr login lmao - im princ3sskenny on ao3)

hello!! i went with 19--i hope you like it! this one was real fun. :^)

--

19. “if we're caught kissing we're most likely dead but let's risk it”

This is new, Maverick thinks, when Ice approaches him after the post-mission debriefing with a face etched from stone and his eyes pale and cold.

For all his namesake, the Iceman is not actually made of ice. Maverick’s always been aware of this, even when Ice would give him bland, cool looks back in TOPGUN like Maverick was no better than a swatch of gum beneath his shoe. No—Ice has always blazed under there, especially nose-to-nose with Maverick, all competitive fire and colossal ego tempered only by the iron fist he has around his composure.

It’s a skill thing, that callsign of his. It’s Ice’s irreproachability in the air, his marble-wrought patience and crystal-cold perfectionism. Hard edges, sharp lines, every piece of the puzzle slotted together with laser-cut precision.

But it’s a whole different ball game, on the ground. On the ground, Ice bends when Maverick least expects it; yields when Maverick most needs it. Those razor-sharp lines become pliant and hazy. Despite everything, Maverick doesn’t think Ice has ever truly been angry with him. Has never really seen him angry, at all. 

Until now, anyway.

Ice approaches, and Ice doesn’t stop approaching, shoving right up into Maverick’s face and bullying him against the bulkhead with his height alone. “What the hell was that?”

“The hell was what?” says Maverick, glancing around. The passageway is claustrophobically tight, overflowing with exposed ductwork and pipes. They’re the only ones here right now, but from experience he knows it won’t be for long.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Ice snarls. “What were you thinking? That stunt you pulled—”

“It was a calculated risk,” says Maverick.

Ice’s eyes flash under the overhead light, the color of an overcast winter sky. “Calculated risk, my ass. It was stupid as shit and you know it.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” says Maverick. “If I hadn’t done that—”

“I didn’t ask you to!”

“Well too fucking bad!” Maverick’s jaw snaps shut. His voice rings in the meager space, acrid and caught. He hisses between his teeth. Lowers the register. “You can’t stop me from making decisions like that, Ice. You won’t ever stop me.”

Ice’s upper lip curls. “You really think you’re invincible.”

“I told you, it was a calculated risk,” says Maverick. He raises his chin. “Besides, it worked. Got you out of radar lock, and we’re both back on deck. We’re both safe.”

Ice stares at him. Fury strings his entire body taut. His shoulders are rigid as a board, his handsome face an effigy carved into a mountain. 

“You put your RIO in danger,” he says.

“Merlin was on board,” Maverick fires back. “Besides, we all know the risks.”

“That’s right,” says Ice, deathly cold. “We do.”

“For God’s sake, Kazansky.” Frustration pounds in Maverick’s temples. He jabs a finger directly into Ice’s name tape, just above his heart. “What the hell’s your problem? Like it or not, I saved your ass. Just fucking accept it.”

Ice knocks his hand away. The USNA ring stings Maverick’s knuckles. “I won’t,” he bites out. “Not like this. Never like this. I would’ve been fine. Slider would’ve been fine. We could’ve handled it. As far as I’m concerned, you fucking panicked.”

“So what if I did?” Maverick snaps. “So what? What did you expect? I’m not you; I’m not called Iceman. I saw you in trouble and I did something about it. Fuck me for giving a shit, am I right?”

“And you think I don’t?” says Ice, knife-sharp, brittle as glass. “You think I can watch you risk your neck—for me, because of me—and just—what, exactly? Shrug it off? Move on with my day?” He laughs bitterly. “Is that what you really think of me?”

Regret slams into Maverick like a freight train, abrupt and staggering. “No,” he says. The air turns viscous in his lungs. “No, Ice.”

Ice grabs him, his fingers clamping hard around his biceps, trapping Maverick where he stands. His hands are shaking. Not from fury, Maverick realizes now, but from fear. “You’re not alone anymore, Maverick,” he says. His voice cracks halfway. “You’re not the only one with skin in the game. Never do that to me again.”

“Ice,” Maverick says again. He sags against the pipe at his back. Remembers, distantly, Ice’s voice over the comms, fuzzy with static but the alarm unmistakable, Slider shouting in the background. Remembers how his head went light with terror, with blinding panic—the icy fingers that slithered down his spine, slipped ruthlessly between his ribs at the very thought—the very possibility—

And then he thinks of Ice, watching Maverick swoop in like a fucking hero. Swoop in like Maverick had a fucking death wish, like Maverick was ready to leave the whole world behind. Leave Ice behind.

“Fine,” he says. He gathers himself. Exhales unsteadily, throat tight. “Fine. But only if you promise me the same.”

Because Maverick can’t lose Ice, either. He can’t. Not after—not when—

Ice is too close; close enough that Maverick can see the blue flecks in his eyes, the way his gaze flicks over Maverick’s face like he’s searching for something. The distant hiss and boom of a catapult above them rattles the overhead. Voices resound from an adjacent passageway, commingling with the clang of boots on metal floor grates.

This is dangerous. They shouldn’t be doing this, not here. Ice knows this better than anyone—is so scrupulous about it that it actually pisses Maverick off, sometimes, even though he knows, even though he understands. 

“Okay,” Ice says at last. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Then another. This time, his shoulders relax. “Okay, Mav.”

But he doesn’t pull away. His fingers dig bruises into Maverick’s arms.

“You should let go,” says Maverick quietly.

Ice’s grip only tightens further. He raises his head, sweeps a look around. Then he leans in.

Maverick’s eyelids flutter as their lips meet. It’s too chaste, too quick. Not enough. Not ever fucking enough. He surges up on his toes, fists his own hands into the front of Ice’s flight suit. Manages to deepen the kiss for only a moment before Ice breaks it off.

Their breaths intermingle. Ice cups his neck, his hand warm and protective. There’s still a hint of strain around his eyes, a touch of tension rippling through his forearm—but his hold is gentle. Maverick aches, fiercely. When Ice finally releases him, finally steps back, he swallows through the bitter pang of loss.

Not a moment too soon; a pair of boots hammer down a nearby ladder. Ice immediately straightens, face closing shut, his bearing collected and aloof once more. They look at each other. 

“I’ll see you topside,” says Ice.

“Wait.” Maverick darts forward. He presses one more kiss to Ice’s mouth, brief and daring, his heart thudding in his chest. “Okay,” he says. “We’re good.”

Ice’s expression softens by the barest degree. He nods. Maverick allows himself to watch his retreat for only a second, then turns heel and exchanges greetings with the lieutenant who’s just rounded the corner.

Only a few more weeks. Maverick can hold on a little longer.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Birds of a Feather (Chapter 4/?) ||| Bradley Bradshaw

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Sam “Merlin” Wells’ Daughter OC

Warnings: Angst, Mentions and Death of Parent(s), Explicit Language, Non-Explicit Sexual References.

Summary: “No,” he answered, his tone one that left little room for argument. “You’ve had a lot on your mind, it isn’t your fault. If he shows up, so be it. We have nothing to say to each other. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me from being here for you right now.”

Word Count: 10,700 ish.

DISCLAIMER: Spoilers for Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick ahead.

Masterlist /// Chapter 1 /// Chapter 3 /// Chapter 4 /// Chapter 5

A/N: I’m just gonna post this one and run...👀

Two quick things I wanted to note before this chapter... 1) I always guessed that at some point, Carole would have distanced herself from everyone who knew Goose and would have been likely to check up on her and Bradley (i.e. Ice), with the exception of Maverick, of course. I went with that assumption for this story. And 2) As much as Ice covered Maverick’s ass and bailed him out of trouble over the years, I have a hard time believing that Admiral Tom Kazansky would have just *allowed* Maverick to pull Bradley’s Naval Academy application, had he known about it at the time. So, for the purposes of this story, let’s say Ice didn’t know about it, and instead, he found out about it later, and/or Maverick eventually came clean about it.

Again, thank you all so very much for your support of this story. It really means a lot to me. I hope you all have a good rest of the week.💙💙💙

Chapter 4: What You’re Made Of

NAS Oceana

Virginia Beach, Virginia

2 years ago

…

In almost all aspects, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was very thankful for how far he had come in life. Though he avoided thinking about it too much, as doing so felt like tempting fate, that still didn’t make the notion any less true.

Professionally, he’d accomplished everything he set out to achieve this far. Not letting his failure to be admitted to the Academy set him back, he forged through an NROTC program at a college in his new home state. He worked his ass off academically and physically in the program, and was fortunate enough to be placed in the very competitive service area of his choice.

His hard work didn’t stop there, and he continued to grind throughout flight school and training, desperate to prove himself and holding onto the hope that good scores and performance would have even just a little bit of sway among the decision makers, and possibly have his opinion of what he would prefer to fly be heard. Fortunately, his minuscule vote had been considered by his superiors, and, after all that hard work, it could finally be said, to put it very simply, that he flew fighter jets for a living. 

After training in Lemoore, he was assigned to VFA-87. Not only did he feel respect amongst the rest of the squadron, though not without some good natured ribbing from the rest of his squadron mates, of course, but he also felt valued, too. There had been a few deployments, and he had been very grateful to return back to the States safe and in one piece.

But in his opinion, the shining moment in Bradley’s career by far had been being sent to TOPGUN. Not even having to attend the prestigious Fighter Weapons School with Lt. Jake Seresin- now appropriately going by the callsign of “Hangman”- had been enough to dampen his mood or otherwise ruin the experience for him. They’d gone head to head, back and forth between first and second place in the class throughout the entire almost 3 month program, and Hangman had managed to pull ahead of him right at the end of it. But even though he had finished second in the class behind Hangman, words could not express how grateful Bradley was to have just finished the program at all.

Personally, Bradley was very satisfied as well. In terms of friends, he’d made plenty of them out of his colleagues along the way. Though he didn’t get to see a lot of them nearly as much as he would have liked, it was the nature of the job, and whenever they were able to reconnect or touch base, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm and continue as though no time had passed between them.

In terms of family… Well, that could always have been improved. Losing both of one’s parents before the age of eighteen wasn’t ideal in any situation. But he still had his grandmother, and even though she was on the decline physically, mentally, she was still as sharp as a whip. He always made a point to visit her whenever he had some leave and help her out around the house with whatever she needed.

In terms of those less than favorable in his eyes, Bradley had been very lucky to avoid running into one Captain Mitchell for years, despite the often tight circle that their careers kept them in. With some more luck, that would continue to be the case until the old man retired, or in case he decided not to reenlist, in another few years.

Romantically? …

… That was perhaps the one area of Bradley’s life that still left something to be desired. But there was one tiny hiccup that prevented him from finding any significant happiness in that area of his life.

He was completely, undeniably, and hopelessly in love with Clara Wells.

Eventually, he’d come to realize that he had been for years. Though Bradley couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the feelings of such a strong nature had kicked in internally, he knew that they’d existed for a few years at minimum, at least since the one night they’d gotten to spend together. It was a night that had not been discussed or even addressed by either of them in the over two years since it happened.

Bradley tried to move on from Clara, as he had suggested would happen if they just indulged themselves for that one evening. But, unsurprisingly, that plan had backfired miserably.

He had since allowed himself to keep an open mind, and he would no longer politely turn down pretty women who approached him at bars or elsewhere. He wasn’t looking for anything serious, but he was open to the idea of feeling something, anything, really, other than the numbness that suppressing his true feelings resulted in. But sad as it was, when the fling was over and done with for one reason or another, Bradley always found himself thinking about her.

Since the squadron Clara had been assigned to, VFA-103, was based at NAS Oceana as well, he’d been given more opportunities to see her than he could have hoped for. Even though deployments and other intermittent assignments and missions kept them apart more often than not, Bradley still got to see her. And who was he to deny his “buddy” some quality time? There were always bars to hit, pianos that needed playing, and beers ample enough to help him bury his true feelings and keep up his exclusively-friendly facade he resigned himself to.

When they weren’t able to see each other in person, texting, phone calls, and even writing letters kept them connected whenever possible. It was an odd type of punishment he inflicted upon himself, but Bradley didn’t have the heart to not return Clara’s messages or calls… even if doing so might have been the only way for him to begin to move on.

Bradley had wrestled with the idea of just telling Clara the truth of his feelings, many times over the years, but something always stopped him. But one day, when he woke up to a text message from Clara with some obscure Back to the Future reference, he made up his mind then and there.

He was going to tell her he loved her.

Bradley had no idea what to say or how to tell Clara, but fortunately, he had some time to mull that over.

Clara, or “Parrot”, as she was often referred to now, had been fresh off a second deployment when she got word that she would be going to TOPGUN. She’d been so happy, and it had been extremely contagious. A weird combination of pride and worry culminated in Bradley upon hearing the news, but at the end of the day, he had kept quiet in lieu of seeing her smile. Clara had already been gone for nine of the thirteen weeks of the program, and had tentative plans to take some leave and visit her father in Chicago upon her return.

So, until then, Bradley would bide his time. He’d answer her calls whenever he could, and he would happily listen to her talk to him about the challenging coursework, the colorful classmates, and the new friends she made.

…

Speak of the devil. Bradley chuckled to himself as he began typing out his response to the incoming text.

Bradley glanced at the time. With the time difference, it was starting to cut it a little bit close.

Just as Bradley was about to put his phone back down and focus on the paperwork in front of him, it buzzed once again.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself.

…

There would never be a perfect moment to tell Clara what he was feeling. But that was okay.

Bradley would take the next opportunity he had, and just try to make the best of it.

It’d been a close call.

Maybe not the closest call ever, but definitely the closest one that came to Clara’s memory. No moments in any deployment had come close.

Her pilot, Dana “Slugger” Harris, had a near miss with another F/A-18F. In her defense, it hadn’t necessarily been her fault- the pilot in the other plane was initially held responsible. His head must’ve been somewhere else- he came out of seemingly nowhere. Add a little bit of miscommunication and misdirection into the mixture following the near miss, and the incident was almost gravely volatile. All four of them involved were likely to be knocked down a bit in the class ranking because of their failure to properly locate the other plane and put some safe distance between them.

Clara couldn’t really blame Dana for the incident, or for the fact that she was a little shaken up afterwards. She had been there too, after all. But Dana had almost always been cool, calm, and collected. The young woman had a steely nature, and besides from a few incidents, one of which had played a role in earning  her her call sign, she was level headed.

Dana was a reliable and dependable pilot, and Clara often found herself thanking whoever was watching above that their superior officers had decided to keep the two of them flying together over the past few years. Of all the pilots Clara could have been assigned to fly with, she had majorly lucked out with Dana. She felt the safest in the air she had since the very beginning of flight school, despite the truly dangerous nature of the job.

… There was no good explanation for what had happened during the hop that day. Despite the unfortunate timing and place of it, it had to have just been a bad day for everyone all around.

As their pilots were inside the office of the instructor of the hop, presumably discussing the details what had happened, Clara, and the other pilot’s WSO, Robert “Bob” Floyd, waited outside in the hallway.

Bob had become a good friend over her relatively short tenure at the program. He was easily one of the kindest people the Navy had ever allowed her to meet, and he was damn good at his job. Though she was looking forward to graduation, she would dread the day that Bob and her would have to return to their respective squadrons. She would miss the pleasure of his company.

Clara couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty on Bob’s behalf. Though neither of them had technically been directly involved in the incident that had occurred during the hop, they’d still been present, and whenever the pilots’ communication failed or was otherwise lackluster, it was well within the realm of the WSOs responsibility to step up to the plate. Clara took it especially hard on herself/ Though her tendency to talk too much had gotten her into some trouble early on in the career, since her advanced training and beyond, it had proven to be one of her assets. It’d even played a role in how she had earned her call sign- Parrot.

Clara snuck a glance at Bob. He looked about as nervous as she felt. Though she was not looking forward to the chewing out they were surely about to receive, ashamedly, that was not what had her stomach in knots as the minutes ticked away in the nearly silent hallways.

Getting reprimanded was one thing, and so was possibly being moved down in class ranking. But the few moments of impending doom Clara had felt was something else entirely. She could’ve been toast, for a lack of better words. And if she had been, she never would have gotten the closely guarded secret off her chest, the one she’d been keeping for years.

She was thoroughly, unquestionably, and terribly in love with Bradley Bradshaw.

Surprise, surprise, their half-brained scheme to “get it out of their system” had not been successful. Though they had never, ever discussed it, In the over two years since the one evening had transpired, Bradley had never strayed too far from her brain.

Clara tried to rid herself of the mental hold Bradley had on her. She tried seeing others, and she was open to the idea of keeping her options open. But she always found herself coming back to him. Though things with Bradley were complicated, in another sense, they were easy. No one else knew her like he did. No one else could make her laugh like he did. And, besides her father, no one else had been ever to make her feel as worthy and reassured in her career as he had been able to.

Even if she had committed to finding something serious with someone else, Clara knew she would be hard pressed to leave her friendship with Bradley in the past. Bradley Bradshaw, or “Rooster”, as he was better known as now, had come to mean many things to her over the years. Their friendship was the one last thing she could hold onto. Though deployments and occasional missions kept them apart for good amounts of time, they had been fortunate enough to be assigned to separate squadrons that were still assigned to the same base. Seeing Bradley in passing for a few days and weeks here and there was far better than being cut off from him entirely. And when physically seeing one another was impossible, they still found other ways to keep in touch.

The epiphany that resulted from the training incident made one thing perfectly clear: Clara would have to come clean to Bradley about what she was feeling. Texting wouldn’t do, and  neither would a letter. As uncomfortable as it had the possibility of being, she knew that a face to face conversation would be the most appropriate course of action… She was planning on putting in for some leave after graduating from TOPGUN and returning back to base. Perhaps she could speak to Bradley before she left, and then they would both have some time to process it all.

..

Before Clara could internally fret anymore about her predicament, the door opened, and both pilots filed out, followed by their instructor. The pilots passed her and Bob, but Clara caught an odd look that Dana subtly threw in her direction.

She couldn’t tell exactly what it meant, but she had a good idea. Dana and Clara, and Bob and his pilot, had been vying back and forth for the top spot in the class. Clara didn’t even want to think about the feast that the third runner up pilot and WSO would have upon their failure come the following morning.

“Lieutenant Wells.”

Clara stood to attention, reminded of the presence of their superior officer and instructor. “Yes, ma’am?”

“You are to report to the Vice Admiral’s office immediately,” the woman directed. She glanced at Bob beside her. “Lieutenant Floyd, I’ll be speaking with you now.”

As their instructor turned to re-enter her office, Clara gave Bob a look that conveyed the dread that suddenly filled her.

“I’ll meet up with you later,” Clara said to him under her breath. Even as she spoke the words, they felt ill-fated.

Bob nodded in confirmation, still visibly nervous, and followed their instructor inside her office. As the door shut firmly behind him, Clara knew she had no choice but to force her feet forward.

…

There were only a few reasons why Clara would have been summoned to speak with the Vice Admiral, and none of the ones she was able to come up with meant anything good at all. As she made her way to the Vice Admiral’s office, the realization that she had been the only one involved in the incident that afternoon to receive such a summons only furthered her dread and fear of what was to come.

Perhaps Clara had misinterpreted the incident in the afternoon. Perhaps she had played more of a role than what she realized. Perhaps this was the beginning of the end, marking a large failure in her career that would result in the disappointment of the rest of her squadron. And her father… shit, her father. How was she going to break this news to him?

When Sam Wells had heard about his daughter’s acceptance to TOPGUN, he’d been over the moon, and so damn proud. Between the deployment and being sent to TOPGUN immediately after, Clara hadn’t been able to see him in almost a year. But her father already planned to attend the graduation, if he could get the time off work. And even if he wasn’t able to, she was very much looking forward to going home and spending some time with him once she returned back to base and could put in for some leave.

The thought of disappointing her father by being kicked out of the program before graduation made Clara seriously contemplate finding the nearest trash can.

Eventually, the Vice Admiral’s office came into sight, and Clara knew that there was no turning back. She was many things, but a coward was not one of them… at least not in regards to her career.

No further comment on any other aspect of her life.

The Vice Admiral’s door was open, and as soon as she approached the threshold, his deep voice invited her inside. “Lieutenant Wells- you can come in. Shut the door behind you.”

Clara did as directed, and entered his office. It was a spacious room, with many windows that let in plenty of natural light. In any other situation, she would have been honored to have been called into the room. But in the current one, her surroundings felt all the more imposing.

“At ease. Would you like to take a seat?” Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson offered.

Though his offer sounded genuine enough, Clara’s initial thought was that it was a test. “No, thank you, sir.”

“Take a seat, Lieutenant.”

The Vice Admiral’s subtle shift in tone left no room for argument. Clara promptly did as instructed, sitting in the chair across the desk from where he was seated himself. She looked at him straight on, not wanting to show any possible sign of disrespect or give him any indication that she was anywhere close to as fearful as she actually was.

He regarded her carefully, analyzing her briefly as she settled in the seat. The look in his eyes was not one of anger, or even disappointment, but it wasn’t something she could place, either. It was, however, remotely similar to the strange look Dana had given her in passing not even ten minutes before.

“Do you know why I’ve called you in here today, Lieutenant?”

Though she had several theories, Clara opted for the most obvious one so as to not waste his time. “I believe it would have something to do with the training exercise today, sir.”

“Unfortunately, it does not,” he responded. “But I was made aware of that. As I’m sure you know, I’ve been told that your instructor will be calling in the rest of those involved in the incident and will be discussing the details of it with each of you. That is to say, if she has not already done so.”

Clara spared a thought for Bob, who was probably being given a lecture at that very moment. Poor Bob. She would’ve offered to swap places with him in heartbeat, both to save him from the reprimanding and her from the tense one-on-one conversation with the Vice Admiral.

“I’m sure Slugger will be able to fill you in on the nature of that discussion, in due time,” the Vice Admiral added.

… In due time? “Yes, sir.”

He paused, and let out a light sigh. “There is no easy way to give you this information Lieutenant, but it is my duty to inform you of something that has happened.”

Clara felt her heart sink. Her mind raced through anything, everything in her past career and personal life that could have caused such an issue that she would receive a special talking to from the Vice Admiral. However, she kept coming up blank.

“Before I give you this news, I want you to know that you have the full support of your superior officers and instructors. No one wants to see you fall behind in this program, or even fail to graduate. We have all agreed to do whatever necessary within our power to work with you to see to it that neither of those things happen, should you be in agreement with that and choose to continue on.”

The nerves didn’t help at all, and Clara couldn’t help but space out at the Vice Admiral’s subtle words. When the haze finally lifted, she realized he was looking at her expectantly, waiting on some sort of response or indication from her that she had heard him.

“What is it, sir?” she inquired quietly.

“... It’s about your father.”

The house didn’t look so different, despite the passing years.

After a series of quick, but polite, rapt of the knuckles on the front door, there were a few moments of patient waiting that followed. The door opened shortly after, revealing a middle aged woman.

Bradley was taken aback. Though Clara had always joked and insisted that she looked more like her mother than she ever did her father, that fact was made abundantly clear upon the realization that Bradley was then face to face with her aunt. Clara had talked about her late mother’s sister plenty of times, but he had never seen the woman before. In person, it was very easy to see the resemblance between them.

“Good morning,” the woman greeted, eyeing him up and down curiously. “Can I help you with something?”

“I was hoping to see Clara, Ma’am.”

Recognition flashed across the woman’s face, and she gave him a small, tired smile. “You must be Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

She knew him. Bradley made a mental note to address that later. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Please, come in,” the woman insisted, opening the door wider and allowing him to enter. She closed the door behind him, and added, “She’s in the study.”

Bradley nodded wordlessly, already knowing exactly where to go. As he headed down the hallway, he noticed that the walls that had once been decorated were now bare. He didn’t hesitate before the open doorway, but instead entered the room slowly, unafraid and with purpose. He’d been preparing for this moment ever since he’d first heard the news. And once he had, he knew he had to go to her. Even if Bradley hadn’t already made a promise to check on her, there was not one part of him that would rest until he saw her himself.

Clara’s back was facing him, and she was focused on something he couldn’t quite see. Unsure of what to say, he took a few slow steps toward her instead.

She must’ve heard his footsteps, because she turned around to face him.

Clara looked worse for the ware, not that Bradley would have expected any less. Dark circles under her puffy red eyes were the most alarming sign that her own well-being had taken a backseat to everything else she had been dealing with over the past few days.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise, her voice slightly raspy.

“I had some leave,” he answered simply.

Clara’s brows furrowed, as if his explanation was less than satisfactory. “You took some leave to come to a funeral for some Lieutenant you didn’t even really know?”

“No,” Bradley corrected, patiently yet firmly. “I took leave to be with my friend who just lost her father.”

At the mention of it, Clara’s lip trembled and her eyes darted away. “I’ll be fine, really,” she said dismissively. Bradley believed her words would ring true in time, but at that moment, he knew they didn’t carry any weight. “Honestly, I shouldn’t even really be this upset… Especially not when your father-“

“Don’t,” Bradley begged, taking another step closer to close the distance between them. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t write off your feelings. He was your father, Clara. You have every right to grieve for him.”

When she finally met his eyes again, Bradley saw that hers were filled to the brim with tears. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it shortly after.

Sparing her any more discomfort by searching for what to say next, Bradley took a final step forward. Before he had even opened his arms fully, she embraced him, tightly wrapping her arms around his middle as the side of her face pressed tightly against his chest.

Bradley placed one hand comfortingly over her hair and the other on her back as he allowed her as much time as she needed. He did nothing as Clara finally allowed herself to break down. He didn’t bat an eye at the vice-like grip on him that made it slightly difficult to breathe, or the dampness quickly forming on the front of his shirt.

He glanced around the room, which used to be her father’s study. A box behind her indicated that Clara was in the process of packing up its contents. But what caught Bradley’s attention most were the walls, which were not yet bare.

Though they had once adorned the walls in the hallway, the display cases that held all of Mr. Wells’ awards, ribbons, and patches, along with his many, many photos, had been moved to decorate the walls of the study instead. And now, they were joined by some of Clara’s own belongings.

There was a photo of her at graduation, standing next to Bradley as the duo gave the camera particularly cheesy smiles. Another photo was of Clara alone; a headshot of her in her service dress uniform. A third photo, which had yet to be hung, rested on top of Mr. Well’s desk. It was a polaroid, also of Clara, and it was far more recent than any of the other photos. In fact, she must have mailed it to him recently, he realized. In the photo, she was standing in front of the Fighter Weapons School sign, pointing at it with one hand while giving the camera a thumbs up with the other.

While the collection was small, it was obviously one well thought and taken care of. It was a collection of someone who was proud. Had Mr. Wells had more time, and had Clara been further along in her career, Bradley had no doubt that the walls would have been decorated with even more of her photos and whatever other effects Mr. Wells could gather.

For the briefest of moments, he dared to wonder whether either, or both, of his parents would have done the same for him. But he didn’t have to dwell on that thought too long- he knew in his heart that they would have.

Clara pulled back, but made no move to remove herself from his arms just yet.

As Bradley looked down at her, he couldn’t help but frown. Though the dark circles under her eyes had been evident from across the room, they were even more plain to see up close, and his concern for her continued to grow.

“When’s the last time you got some sleep?”

Clara took a step back then, and when she did, Bradley let his arms fall back down to his sides. She wiped at the tears slipping from her eyes with the bottom of her palms. “I haven’t really. There’s been too much to do.”

Bradley was disappointed, but he could hardly give her too much grief. Not only would it be hypocritical, but he also got the feeling that she was sensing the lecture was coming. She glanced at him, waiting for his next words patiently. At that moment, Bradley felt reassured that coming to see her had not been a mistake. Maybe she needed him just as much as he felt the need to be there for her. “If you had to guess, how much sleep have you gotten?”

Clara shrugged, averting his gaze as she turned back around to proceed to pack various items into the box on the floor. “A couple hours, here and there.”

“It’s been two days, Clara.”

“Almost three, technically.”

Bradley took a step forward and placed a light hand on her shoulder. The simple gesture was enough to get her to pause her actions and turn around to face him once again. When she did, he placed both of his hands on her upper arms in an effort to steady her and have her focus on him.

Clara’s chin tilted up towards him, and her watery eyes met his own once again. Before he realized what he was doing, his hands drifted upwards, and his thumbs lightly swiped at the circles underneath her eyes absentmindedly.

“You need sleep, Darling,” he murmured softly.

If she minded his actions, or the term of endearment that slipped off his tongue, she didn’t show it. Clara shook her head softly. “I can’t. I need to pack. I need to get everything in boxes, and then I have to get it all to a storage unit until I can come back and actually sort through it all-”

“I can pack boxes just fine. I’ve done it a time or two myself, you know.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, not when you’ve come all the way out here on your own time.”

“You don’t have to ask- I’m volunteering.”

Clara sighed and gave him a look, but Bradley could tell her frustration with him was surface-level at best. After a moment, she relented with a small nod. “Okay… but just for a little bit.”

Bradley gently guided her out of the room, down the hallway, and towards her childhood bedroom. He opened the door from her, and politely ushered her inside. The room was very much the same as the last time he had seen it, despite the passing time, much like the rest of the house.

There was a new addition to the room, though, one that Bradley recognized almost immediately. One of the paper-bound textbooks for TOPGUN laid on top of the bed’s comforter. He hoped Clara hadn’t been studying in lieu of getting some sleep, but the textbook being opened to a page several chapters in told him all that he needed to know.

“Maybe I just need to relax for a little bit,” Clara said then, suddenly eyeing the textbook longingly. “I can still take it easy while I study.”

“What?” Bradley questioned, stunned that she had even suggested such a thing. “No. You need to rest. You need to get some sleep.”

“I need to keep studying, or else I’m going to fall behind,” she argued, walking over to the bed.

Bradley beat her to it, crossing the room in fewer strides and carefully, but swiftly, swiping up the book and closing it before Clara could get it within her reach.

She frowned at him angrily, but Bradley held his ground. He knew what she was doing, whether Clara knew it or not. Not everyone was comfortable addressing grief head-on, especially grief so fresh. It wasn’t unheard of for one to throw themselves fully into something else as a means of a distraction from properly dealing with a loss. Hell, Bradley had done that very same thing himself when his mother had died. While he didn’t necessarily want Clara to wallow, her basic needs, namely sleep at that moment, still needed to be met. And if she wasn’t going to see to it, he was.

“I’ll give this back to you in a few hours, after you’ve gotten some sleep,” he promised, still holding the book out of her reach.

“But-”

“And if I have too, I’ll help you study,” Bradley added persuasively. Though there had been a non-serious running gag between them about who, if either of them, would get to TOPGUN first, it was the first moment that Bradley was genuinely happy that it had been him. It was just another way he could try to be of use to her.

Clara’s frown slowly disappeared from her face. She relented, and finally climbed onto the bed.

Bradley watched her get comfortable for a moment, wanting to make sure she had finally given up on the thought of trying to study instead. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” she whispered, her eyes closing as soon as her head hit the pillow.

“I’m going to get you some water, anyway,” he informed her. “Be right back.”

Bradley turned and slowly left the room, dropping off the textbook on the nearby dresser before heading down the hallway. He entered the kitchen, where he ran into her aunt. After informing her what had happened, and that he would be helping them pack up, the woman looked relieved, and thanked him. Though he should have expected as much, it gave him comfort to know that Clara still had someone looking out for her.

When Bradley returned to her bedroom, it appeared as though Clara was already fast asleep. He set the glass of water down on the nightstand beside the bed, and gently placed a blanket that had been at the foot of the bed overtop of her.

As he turned to leave, he heard a soft, wistful, “Thank you, Brad.”

Bradley looked down at Clara, whose eyes were still closed, with a soft, sympathetic smile. “Anytime, Darling.”

In the end, it had been a sudden heart attack that had taken her father away. It was unexpected; as far as she knew, her father wasn’t experiencing any significant health problems. At least for his sake, it had been quick.

The funeral was also planned quickly, both for logistical and emotional purposes. There were few people to notify, and Clara was only granted so many days of emergency leave in order to see to the affairs.

The funeral was a somber event. Her father had been put to rest beside her mother, who had been waiting for him for some twenty something years. The very few in attendance were largely made up of her father’s closest friends. But her aunt was there as well, and also Bradley. He hardly left her side at all.

Clara was thankful for that. Bradley’s careful watch gave her all the more motivation to keep herself together. One slip in composure, and he’d gladly jump in for support. As much as she wouldn’t have minded it, the thought of it only furthered her guilt. He’d already taken some leave to be in Chicago with her for a few days, and almost the entirety of those days he’d spent helping her and her aunt pack up her and her father’s belongings. 

But still, Bradley stuck by her, and Clara couldn’t deny that just having him near brought some comfort. He stood by her side during the funeral, and even afterwards, when the small congregation had traveled to a local bar her father frequented, Bradley was never too far away.

Clara’s aunt took some of the burden from her by helping to greet those who had turned up to the bar, but had opted not to attend the service. Clara could hardly blame them; she would’ve preferred to forgo the intimate funeral herself if she had had the choice. The light atmosphere of the bar did wonders to lift clouds of grief that had loomed over her over the past few days.

But, even with her aunt’s assistance, many of the stragglers insisted on paying their respects to her personally as well. More friends of her father, they were- she knew some, but not all. Most of his office had turned up for the event as well. But there were a few notable surprises.

The first one was a man she almost didn’t recognize, until she took a better look at his face. Bill “Cougar” Cortell was accompanied by his wife and daughter, who looked to be near Clara’s age, but perhaps a little younger. She had met the man a few times throughout her childhood, but it had been well over 15 years since she had seen him last. He offered his condolences for a few minutes before turning and heading over to the bar. His wife and daughter trailed shortly behind.

Clara felt Bradley come to stand beside her. “You know who that is?” she asked, not turning to look at him.

“Cougar,” Bradley answered, evidently having recognized the man from photos.

“... I think his daughter is checking you out,” Clara noted then, stifling a smile as she caught the other woman, who accepted her ordered drink from the bartender, taking glances at the man beside her.

“She is not,” Bradley denied, though Clara could hear the smile in his voice.

“I could introduce you to Cougar, if you’d like,” she offered then. “I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

“Maybe in a little bit.”

“Clara!”

Her aunt’s hushed whisper immediately grabbed her attention, and both Clara and Bradley looked to the woman, who was standing a few feet away, for the cause of her urgency. Her aunt subtly gestured to the door, where a few more people were making their way into the room.

Even if her father had not pointed him out to her in old photos, Clara would have recognized the man leading the group anyways. He walked towards her slowly, calmly, with a woman, whom Clara could only assume was his wife, on his arm.

Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky came to a stop before her. He gently unwrapped his arm from his wife’s, and extended a hand out towards her.

“Lieutenant Wells, I was very sorry to hear about your father.”

Going through the motions, Clara stuck her own hand out to shake the Admiral’s. “Thank you sir,” she heard herself say, still stunned by the man’s mere appearance. “And thank you for coming.”

“This is my wife, Sarah,” he introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you.” His wife also extended her hand, and Clara shook her hand as well.

After Clara’s hand fell back down to her side, she blinked a few times to reassure herself of what she was seeing. She felt Bradley subtly shift beside her, reverting her attention back to the conversation at hand. “It’s lovely to meet you. And thank you, both- it’s an honor to have you here… Forgive me, sir, but I didn't think to expect you.”

The Admiral gave her a small, reserved smile and he nodded understandingly. “If I may say so, you’re young, and early on in your career, but I’m sure you’ll soon realize- you seldom forget those you fly with. Anyone you fly with. I didn’t have the pleasure of working with your father for too long, but I do know he was damn good at his job.”

In the back of her mind, Clara could hear her father recounting the exact day the Admiral was referencing. It was twenty something years ago, but he always seemed to remember every detail of what had happened that day. And now, Clara realized, the Admiral seemed to remember the day clearly as well. Like Maverick, her father had always spoken highly of Iceman. It touched Clara that the Admiral spoke so highly of him in turn, and she could only hope her father was aware of the Admiral’s opinion of him before he passed.

“I appreciate the wisdom, sir,” Clara commented. Bradley shifted once again beside her, and she glanced up at him briefly. “I’m sorry. sir, if I may, this is-”

The Admiral extended out his hand once again, this time to Bradley. “Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw,” he declared, with a small smile and a particularly meaningful look in his eyes.

Bradley smiled warmly, clearly honored to have been recognized so plainly, and shook his hand firmly. “Yes, sir.”

“The last time I saw you, you were about yay high.” The admiral looked at him with a hint of amusement in his eyes. The look in his eyes shifted slightly, becoming distant, as though recalling some old memory. “God, you look a lot like your father.”

At this, Clara watched Bradley’s reaction carefully. Typically, speaking about anything regarding his father was a hit or miss type of subject, and Clara had a better chance of flipping a coin than betting on whether the topic was going to be welcomed on Bradley’s end or if it would be a sore one.

To her surprise, and relief, Bradley didn’t seem angered by the implication. He actually looked rather humbled. But mostly proud.

“Thank you, sir. I’ve gotten that a lot.”

The Admiral chuckled. “Well, I’m sure you get this a lot too, but it has to be said- your father really was a good man.”

Bradley’s expression remained soft and unbothered. “I’ve been told that before too, but it’s always good to hear it, sir.”

“How is your mother doing these days?”

That was the moment Bradley’s composure slipped. If Clara hadn’t been watching his face, she almost would have missed his faltering smile. To his credit, he recovered in the blink of an eye. The Admiral may not even have noticed the slip.

“She passed away a few years ago, sir,” he replied carefully, his voice a bit thicker than just a few moments before.

It had been more than just a few years, but Clara knew the fib had been done on the Admiral’s behalf.

It worked too; the man made no move to disguise his own falling face. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sarah Kazansky cleared her throat quietly, and the Admiral spared no time in changing the subject to prevent an awkward conversation. His eyes darted between the pair of them curiously. “So, the two of you know each other?”

“Yes, sir,” Clara answered, smiling proudly. She spared another glance up at Bradley, who still looked a little bit uncomfortable by the previous subject. “We’ve been good friends for several years now.”

At this, Bradley’s crestfallen face slowly disappeared, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a small smile as he looked down at her briefly and met her eyes.

“Really?” the Admiral asked, the surprise evident in his voice. He looked between the two of them once again, as if trying to come up with the answer of “how” for himself. “I guess it’s a small world. You two must be like birds of a feather, huh?”

It hadn’t crossed her mind, but the more she thought about it, the more apt a description for them it seemed to be. Clara nodded and smiled politely. “Something like that, sir.”

“Well, I’ve heard nothing but good things about the both of you,” the Admiral confided seriously. “I’m sure I will continue to hear the same.”

Despite the slight surprise at the revelation of that information, Bradley and Clara both answered, in unison, “Yes, sir.” The honor of the Admiral’s words was not lost on either of them.

The Admiral gave them one last smile and nod before entertaining his arm with his wife’s once again. He moved to head over towards the bar, but stopped. To Clara directly, he said quietly, “Lieutenant Wells, if you see Maverick, would you please send him my way?”

Bradley’s jaw clenched.

“I have yet to see him, sir, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know,” Clara replied without skipping a beat.

“Thank you.”

Once the Admiral and his wife were out of earshot, Clara turned to face Bradley with a concerned expression. His jaw was still clenched.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think about the possibility of him showing up... Do you want to head out early, in case he does?” she asked him quietly.

Though hadn’t been talking or texting every day as of late, Clara was fairly certain that if Bradley had had some sort of miraculous reunion with his later father’s best friend, he would have informed her about that development in their otherwise severely strained relationship.

Bradley relaxed at her question, and looked down at her with tired but caring eyes. “No,” he answered, his tone one that left little room for argument. “You’ve had a lot on your mind, it isn’t your fault. If he shows up, so be it. We have nothing to say to each other. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me from being here for you right now.”

Without thinking about it, she embraced him in response to his words.

The gesture was quickly returned.

…

As the afternoon went on, the absence of one Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell became painfully obvious. Cougar had even inquired about whether Clara heard from him. She had not. 

But the Admiral had mentioned him specifically, and Clara had a feeling that if the Admiral knew of her father's death, she couldn’t imagine that information wouldn’t have been shared with Maverick as well.

On one hand, Clara was happy when the Captain ultimately decided not to make an appearance. Bradley was more at ease that way.

But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel some anger stirring within her at the thought. Had her father not been in the plane with Maverick that day he shot down the three MiGs? Merlin was not Goose, and she knew that, but he’d flown with Maverick just the same. He had his back just the same. Hell, her father practically idolized the man, and seldom said a negative thing about him.

The Admiral, who had also been there with them that day, but in a completely other plane, had taken time out of his incredibly busy schedule to show up and offer his condolences. And Captain Mitchell had not.

Though he had explained his side of the story, at some point over the years Clara had begun to chalk up Bradley’s anger with Maverick up to some miscommunication and misguided good intentions. But Clara was beginning to realize why Bradley felt the way he did, and why his anger had pursued despite the passing years.

Perhaps the infamous Maverick wasn’t all he was cracked up to be after all.

“What time does your flight leave?”

“Not for a few hours.”

The following day, almost all belongings in what used to be the Wells’ residence had been packed up and moved into a few storage units. It’d been a lot of hard work, but it’d been accomplished in a timely manner with Bradley’s help. Clara hadn’t been able to stop thanking him since the day he arrived. As if he actually minded; he would have come to Chicago for her anyway.

Some of the bigger pieces of furniture remained in the house, including the table and chairs on the pack patio. In a few weeks, Clara would hire some movers to take what remained of the furniture out of the house, and it would eventually be sold. But for now, the patio was proving to be a nice resting place for them to both decompress over the past few days.

“Mine leaves tonight,” Clara commented. “After you leave, I’m going to go see my aunt for a little bit longer before heading to the airport myself.”

Bradley nodded, happy with the fact that Clara wouldn’t be left alone for too long. Perhaps he had been hovering over her too much over the past few days, but if he had, it’d only been done with the best intentions. He was no expert in the matter, but having lost both parents himself, he thought he could see a few signs of less-than-productive coping methods. So far, he hadn’t seen much in Clara that gave him cause for concern… except for one thing.

“Are you sure you're ready to go back?” he dared to ask, despite being well aware of how she would take his question that had been posed innocently enough.

As expected, Clara grimaced. “We were having such a nice time,” she complained half-jokingly.

“It’s only been four days, Clara.”

“Closer to five.”

“Fine, five. It’s only been five days, Clara.”

“And that’s five days I’ve missed out on. FIve days worth of work that I’m behind everyone else on.”

God, she’s stubborn, Bradley couldn’t help but think to himself, albeit with some fondness. “I doubt anyone would give you much grief if you decided to-”

“Don’t say that,” Clara interjected.

The sudden harshness of her tone took him aback. He must’ve made some sort of face in response, because Clara’s stern look visibly softened as she looked at him.

She cleared her throat, and shook her head. Softer, she added, “Don’t say that, please. Not finishing is not an option.”

“It can be, if it’s what’s best for you,” Bradley insisted gently.

“And why is finishing the program not the best thing for me?”

“If you’re ignoring things you need to deal with, at some point that stuff will come out at the worst times. Believe me, I know. I’ve been there.”

He knew this all too well, actually. Not properly dealing with his mother’s passing all those years ago led to one too many angry outbursts against undeserving people. And, given what the both of them did for a living, Bradley couldn’t help but fear the thought of Clara's mind being anything less than sound when she could happen to be tens of thousands of feet up in the air.

It wasn’t that Bradley thought Clara incapable of grieving and moving on properly. He had the utmost faith that it was possible, knowing her. But the timing of it all, and just how adamant she was about quickly returning to TOPGUN, made him pause. Whenever Clara was involved, he’d rather voice his opinion and err on the side of caution then remain silent and live to terribly regret his decision later.

“You don’t understand,” Clara continued when he did not respond. “I have to go back.”

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t go back now, I might not go back at all.”

“You don’t know that-”

“-But I do. This is my one chance, Brad. You know as well as I do that not everyone gets a chance like it, either… let alone a second one. I have to see it through. For him.”

Her weighted implications delayed Bradley’s reply. But after a moment, he pushed forward, determined to state his case. “Your dad wouldn’t want you to run yourself ragged on his behalf, Clara,” he reasoned sympathetically.

“You still don’t get it,” Clara huffed, though she sounded more tired than irritated. “My dad had a chance to go to TOPGUN once- you know that. Things didn’t work out though, and after that, he never got another chance. But you should’ve heard how happy he was for me when I told him I’d gotten in. He was so proud. He was going to try and make it to graduation…” she trailed off, eyes veiled as though lost in some memory. A moment later, they refocused on Bradley with a newfound sense of steely resolve. “He gave up his military career to raise me, and I cannot let that go to waste. I will not blow this chance. I have to finish. I have to graduate. Not just for him, but for myself.”

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?” Bradley asked calmly, though he already knew his answer.

“No.”

“Then I won’t,” he promised, settling back into his chair comfortably to silently signal that there was no ill-will between them.

Clara was quiet for a moment. Then, she turned to him, and asked, “Do you know what my dad said to me, after he found out about the results of service selection?”

Bradley merely shook his head once.

“He said, ‘Time to show them what you’re made of, kid,” she recalled somberly. She looked away from him slowly, and her eyes focused on something distant, if it was even something physically present at all. “I know you’re worried about me, but I need to do this. There is no one else out here that I need to impress anymore. There’s no one else out here who would be disappointed in me if I don’t give this my all. So if I can’t make the best out of my career for my own damn sake, then I might as well give it all up right now… And I just don’t think I could live with myself if I did that.”

Clara’s impassioned words resonated with Bradley very deeply. Besides his grandmother, he had no one left to appease but himself, either. … And her.

“... You’re wrong,” he disagreed softly after a few beats of silence.

Clara looked over at him once again, her eyes fixated on him with a look mixed between bewilderment and anger. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re wrong,” he repeated plainly. “If I ever find out you do anything at less than your best, Red Cross, I will personally be very, very disappointed. So, go- show them what you’re made of.”

Seeing the slow-forming smile on her face in response to his half-serious, half-playful tone would have been worth the trip to Chicago in and of itself.

“I just wanted you to make sure you take the time you need,” Bradley explained. “If what you need is to keep on going, then you should do it. I will support you in any way I can. But, you should know that you were still right about something else you said, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t need to impress anyone… But you already do, even without having to try.”

The smile on Clara’s face was plain as day now. It was one of the very few Bradley had been graced with over the past few days, but he was thankful for it regardless. Her eyes welled with tears, but this time, Bradley had a good feeling that they were not ones of sadness. “Thank you, Brad… That really means a lot.”

“It’s the truth… Just, don’t be a stranger, alright? If you ever want to talk, about anything at all, I’m always a text or phone call away.” Most of the time.

“We could never be strangers, Brad,” Clara replied with a playful scoff. She thought to herself for a moment. “Not after everything that happened.”

It was the first explicitly clear reference that either of them had made to the night that had happened more than two, going on three years back. Bradley wasn’t as bothered as he thought he would be by it, though. In fact, hearing Clara verbally reaffirm that what had happened was not a figment of his wildest imagination was reassuring. … Had she thought about that one night over the years, like he had before many times?

… Was it possible she loved him, too?

Neither of them knew what else to say after that. Instead, the pair continued to sit as they were, and a deafening, yet oddly comfortable, silence fell over the both of them as the ambience of the surrounding Chicago suburb filled their ears instead.

…

“Hey, Brad?”

“Yeah?”

“... We’re still buddies, right?”

“Always, Red Cross.”

She smiled.

“Besides... You still have my shirts.”

“I’m really sorry we didn’t end up first in the class.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dana asked incredulously. “Don’t you dare apologize about that!”

Several weeks later, Clara and Dana watched quietly as Bob and his pilot were handed the plaque that symbolized their top performance amongst the best of the best.

“Second place is still worth noting, right?” Clara asked her hopefully.

Despite the training incident, and Clara’s sudden absence of a few days mid-course, the duo of pilots and WSOs had been able to make their way back to the top of the pack with a lot of hard work. That had been no easy feat, but Clara still thought it a little disappointing to have come so far just to fall short at the end of the program. She couldn’t help but feel as though her absence had potentially lost a spot at the top of the class not only for herself, but for Dana, too.

Dana turned and gave her an incredulous look. “Clara, it’s worth noting that we finished the program at all.”

Upon processing the other woman’s words, Clara did a double take. There was no simply no way Dana could have known how deeply her words resonated with her… And judging by the forming smile on the other woman’s young face, Dana had no idea. Clara forced a small smile and nod to makeup for her failure to immediately reply.

“Come on,” Dana said then. “I could use a drink. Or two. Plus, we’ve got some people to see.”

A trio from their squadron had flown out for the graduation as a show of support. Though they had (mostly) behaved during the ceremony and speeches, Clara could already tell, even from across the courtyard, that the crew was beginning to become their typically rambunctious selves.

Even Dana’s parents had flown in for the occasion. Though seeing her pilot being reunited with her family warmed her heart, it was double-sided with some pain in Clara’s own as she recalled who was unable to attend and see her… But then she remembered.

As Dana headed over to the concession table, Clara lingered behind, her eyes searching the rest of the courtyard. She spotted him almost immediately.

Bradley Bradshaw.

He had surprised her just before the ceremony started, greeting her warmly. She hadn’t expected to see him, and she told him as much. All he said in response was, “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

They’d been unable to get more than a few words in before they had to part. But before doing so, he promised to catch up with her later, telling her that they needed to talk.

The fact that Bradley had taken even more leave to come to the graduation made Clara realize just how much she appreciated his presence in her life. He’d been a rock for her following her father’s death, without her even having to ask as much of him. And even before that, Bradley had done nothing but support and encourage her along the way. Clara could only hope that she had done the same for him.

She still loved him, and that wasn’t likely going to change soon… if at all. But she was glad she hadn’t confessed her feelings to him before she came to her senses.

Clara knew that Bradley had played a large role, passive or not, in her ending up where she had. She knew she had found a true companion in him, this man who she had only met by way of backup plans and pure chance. She knew their line of work was dangerous, and that was both unavoidable and undeniable. But she dreaded the thought of doing something that would lead to him leaving her life by choice.

She couldn’t risk ruining their friendship.

Even if it meant numbing those pesky little feelings of love that she held for him.

Proud was an understatement of what Bradley felt.

He smirked to himself as Clara’s particularly rowdy squadron members enveloped her and Slugger in a hug that could only have been described as bone-crushing.

They’d flown in on the same connecting flight as him. Bradley would have been remiss if he hadn’t taken the opportunity to get a little more insight into his “buddy”. While he had gotten some information he was looking for from them, he would readily admit that her squadron members had drilled him a little bit too. It seemed it was obvious amongst them how close the two of them were while on base.

Bradley wanted to join the group across the courtyard in their mirth, but in all honesty, he was trying to delay the inevitable.

That, and he didn’t want to be seen as disrespectful. Since he had been to TOGUN himself within the past year, many of the instructors had remained the same. When a few of them noticed him in attendance, they couldn’t help but pull him aside for some words and to catch up.

So, Bradley made polite small talk with them. But as he did so, he was constantly eyeing the group, or more specifically, one of them, across the courtyard longingly.

Though he had intended to attend the graduation regardless, especially in light of Mr. Well’s unforeseeable absence, what was supposed to have been a cheerful event had been tainted in light of the news Bradley had received upon landing in California. As he watched Clara smiling across the way, he knew without a doubt that he would make small talk with every guest attending if it meant putting off the conversation he was going to have with her. Bradley knew that as soon as the conversation began, Clara’s cheerful resolve would disappear.

While he’d be damned if he killed this pivotal moment for her any sooner than he had too, the clock was still ticking. His departure to report back at Virginia Beach was imminent.

Bradley watched her talk enthusiastically with another peer. It was a man whom Bradley recognized as being one of the two who had been acknowledged as top of the class, and whom Clara would later introduce to him as her infamous friend, “Bob.” As they conversed about something Bradley could only guess at, his thoughts drifted elsewhere than the five person shop-talk conversation he was barely a part of anyway.

He was relieved he hadn’t confessed his true feelings to her, despite him feeling hell-bent on doing so.

Had he told her, and his feelings not been reciprocated, Bradley wouldn’t have been able to be there for her when she really needed someone. And since Clara had been there for him, whether she knew it or not, years back when they first met, and when he was dealing with a few inner demons of his own, the least he could do was return the favor. But, more than that, having someone like her in his life was a constant that Bradley had been afforded very few of. As selfish as it was, having her in his life, in any capacity, made him happy. And he’d be damned if he did anything at all to jeopardize that. Even if it meant choosing to follow his mind instead of his heart.

But hell, he still loved her. And he doubted that would ever change.

… That’s never going to change, Bradley realized solemnly, taking a forlorn glance at Clara across the courtyard. So long as she was in his life, which is one of the few things he wanted more than anything else in the world, the feelings he held for her would probably never go away.

The sudden epiphany was not shocking, but it was all the more bittersweet in light of everything else.

Specifically, it was bittersweet in light of the orders Bradley had just received a few hours prior, which had informed him that he, and the rest of his squadron, were to be deployed in less than 48 hours.

San Diego, CA

Fightertown U.S.A.

Present Day

...

Clara let out a laugh in response to a particularly jarring joke Phoenix cut at Hangman’s expense. As she settled down, she glanced over at the small crowd beginning to file into the bar. And who she saw, donning his expected aviators and one of many, many Hawaiian print shirts in his possession, both very much expected of him, made her heart skip a beat involuntarily.

He stood just inside the entryway, and she could tell even with the glasses that his eyes were scanning over the patrons of the bar. He was reading the room.

Phoenix looked up from her lined up shot on the pool table and over towards the entrance of the bar as well. “Bradshaw!”  she called, suddenly standing up straight. “Is that you?”

He made eye contact with Phoenix, and after a brief look of recognition flashed across his face, he began to head towards their direction. As he walked, his eyes continued to look over those he passed by.

She watched with piqued interest as he came closer. Eventually, his eyes met hers.

He smirked.

…

The promise of something greater than friendship between Bradley Bradshaw and Clara Wells had taken a back seat to their careers and personal fears. Though the sparks between them remained over the years, several ill-timed events had prevented them from admitting the truth.

Finding the courage and the right time for themselves to address the feelings they continued to bury was beginning to seem impossible.

Thankfully, the universe saw fit to keep letting them try.

Chapter 5

Masterlist

A/N: Please don’t hit me for this one. I had this planned since chapter 1... it’s character building(?)😅

But thank you for reading!💙 I may need some additional time for the next chapter... considering I have yet to write it.😅 But it will be on the way! Starting next chapter, we’re finally going to get into the events of the movie. If you would like to be added to the taglist so that you are notified when the next chapter is posted, please feel free to let me know. Also, I’ve got some one shot/headcanon ideas that spurred off of this part, so if that’s something you would be interested in reading too, please feel free to let me know as well.

As always, any and all feedback is welcomed and appreciated.💙

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