the-sun-and-the-sky

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

When it Rains, it Pours

Summary: The long-suffering RIOs play matchmaker, ft: idiots pining, forced proximity, and my personal headcanon that Maverick hates thunderstorms.

Pairing: Iceman x Maverick

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Cussing, minor suggestive content, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst, Goose lives (yay), no beta reading, and possible misspellings (words are hard ok?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

None of the Flyboys could remember the last time they’d had leave, much less gone on a proper vacation. As a consequence, Viper and Jester had more or less forced the aviators out the door with assurances that yes, they would survive a week without flying, and not to worry, their instructors wouldn’t miss them that much. 

Of course, Viper and Jester had their own reasons for wanting the Flyboys out of their hair for the week and it had something to do with the obvious, pining looks Iceman and Maverick were giving each other. Obvious, that is, to everyone but them. 

Which was possibly why neither of them noticed Goose and Slider being pulled into a private meeting with the instructors just before leaving for the trip. 

“I don’t care how you do it. Just make sure by the time you come back, the issue is fixed,” Jester told them as he paced around the small office. 

Viper stood gazing out the window, nodding along with what Jester was saying. The dawn light dusted over his uniform. He seemed distracted, letting Jester do all the talking. 

“And by issue, you mean…” Goose prompted, shifting in his seat. 

“Maverick and Iceman.” 

Slider let out a barking laugh. “Sir, no offense, but I don’t think we can fix their little rivalry problem in a week. Hell, I don’t even think we could do it in a year.” 

At this, Viper turned and looked at the two RIOs. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“We’re not talking about the rivalry here. Although,” Viper tilted his head, considering something. “That might work itself out too.” 

Goose and Slider looked at each other, understanding and horror dawning on their faces. 

“You want us to…set them up?” Goose’s voice rose an octave. 

Jester abruptly stopped pacing and snapped his fingers. “Exactly.” 

Slider groaned, sinking down in his seat. “Are they really that obvious?” 

“Yes,” Viper chuckled. “To everyone here, except themselves. Frankly, it’s giving everyone a headache.” 

Goose sighed and exchanged a long-suffering look with Slider. They thought the knowledge was limited to the Flyboys. Apparently not. 

“Well, we’ve been trying to do something about that.” Goose admitted. “But so far, no luck.”

Slider feverishly nodded in agreement. 

“A change of scenery might do everyone some good then,” Jester muttered, resuming his pacing. 

“Speaking off.” Viper made a halfhearted shooing motion, causing Slider and Goose to jump to their feet. “You should get going. I think Maverick is getting antsy.” 

He jabbed a finger over his shoulder at the window he’d been gazing out. The window that looked out over the parking lot. 

The RIOs were dismissed. 

“Great,” Goose groaned the second they were out of earshot of Viper’s office. “Just great. How’d we get stuck on matchmaking duty?” 

Slider glanced at the other man as they walked through the halls. “Don’t act like we weren’t going to try it on our own.” 

Goose sighed and was silent for a moment before relenting. “Yeah ok. You got any ideas we haven’t tried yet?” 

The door to the parking lot loomed ahead. It was propped open, letting the early spring sun seep into the hallway. Outside, the other Top Gun students had gathered and were arguing about seating arrangements for the trip. Maverick’s rose above the others, directed at Ice for some reason or another. It always was. 

“I’ve got a few,” Slider said as the two RIOs marched towards their waiting pilots and the looming car ride. “I just hope they work.” 

~~~

Goose would like to say he was a patient person. But even the most patient person would feel their nerves fraying by the ninth hour stuck in a car with Ice and Maverick. 

You’re paying for my therapy was written on the back of a gas station receipt and dropped into Slider’s lap. Goose glared at him while Slider read the note and rolled his eyes. 

“It was a stupid maneuver and you know it,” Ice barked from the driver’s seat. 

“You’re just mad that I beat you,” Maverick countered, his feet propped up against the dashboard. 

He knew Ice hated him doing that. Just as much as he hated arguing with Maverick over what he called “brain-dead stunts”. Sure enough, Ice leaned over and slapped Maverick’s cowboy boots off the dashboard without taking his eyes off the road. Goose swallowed a sigh and leaned to rest his forehead against the car window. 

They’d driven through San Francisco almost an hour ago, stopping only to eat, and were currently winding their way along the coast of Northern California. The light was fading fast and Goose watched the last golden rays of sunshine dance on the wave crests. The roadside was covered in wild grasses and every color of wildflower imaginable. Goose couldn’t help thinking that Carole would love it here. Maybe he’d have to surprise her and Bradley with a trip for her birthday.

His thoughts were interrupted by Ice abruptly pulling the car onto a side road. Tail lights bounced ahead of them in the dusk and headlights shone through the back windshield. For better or worse, the Flyboys had all made it to their destination in one piece. 

Ice pulled the car in front of a small bed and breakfast tucked away in the trees and Maverick was out the door before the engine shut off. Ice quickly followed, as did the RIOs, stretching every sore muscle. 

Somehow, Hollywood and Wolfman still had energy left and were messing around by their car. The rest of the aviators showed signs of fatigue commonly associated with road trips and were taking a long time to unpack the cars. 

Ice, ever the responsible one, disappeared into the quaint, two-story building. It was painted a cream color that glowed in the darkness of the woods and seemed to be made of more windows than walls. Flower boxes, perched on windowsills, overflowed with every kind of flower imaginable and their scent filled the air. Somewhere in the distance, a bird trilled and a stillness unlike anything the aviators were used to, hung over them. 

Ice returned before long and passed out room keys. Previously, they had agreed that pilots would room with their RIOs. But as Goose went to follow Maverick up to their room, he felt Slider pull him aside. 

“Give me your key,” the taller man whispered. 

“What, why?” Goose hissed back, confused, but he didn’t fight as Slider slipped the key from his grasp. 

Slider threw a wink over his shoulder as he quickly made his way to Ice. While the other man was distracted, Slider snatched his room key. 

“Slider, what the hell?” Ice shouted as the other man danced out of his reach. “Give that back.” 

“Change of plans Ice. You’re rooming with Mitchell this week.” The glee was obvious in Slider’s voice. 

“Like hell I am,” Ice bit out. 

“Don’t think you can handle it, Kazansky?” Maverick teased, leaning against the railing of the porch. 

Ice’s mouth opened, then closed again, having heard the challenge in Maverick’s voice. Everyone else took note of the unfolding drama. Wolfman whispered something to Hollywood, who nodded and the two discreetly shook hands. 

“Fine,” Ice eventually ground out. 

Slider tossed Ice the key to his and Maverick’s room before returning to help Goose with their stuff. 

“He’s gonna give you so much shit for that,” Goose muttered, watching over his shoulder as Maverick and Ice stomped off to find their room. 

Slider shrugged. “If my plan works, he’ll be thanking me pretty soon.” 

~~~

Ice was going to kill Slider. He knew this with the same certainty that he knew the sun rose in the morning and that Maverick was going to be a pain in his ass all week, especially now they were sharing a room. Hadn’t he suggested pilots and RIOs room together to avoid this exact outcome? 

Everyone assumed that Ice didn’t want to be around Maverick because he hated him, hated his flying, and hated the antics the shorter man got up to both in the air and on the ground. The reality, however, was the complete opposite. Ice liked Maverick. He liked him a lot but in an occupation like the Navy, one didn’t just have feelings for your coworkers. And one certainly didn’t act on it. Besides, Maverick spent every weekend at the O Club flirting with a new girl, never sparing Ice a second glance outside of training. 

So it boiled down to this. Ice had feelings for Maverick. Maverick didn’t have feelings for Ice (not that he would ever ask). And Slider knew Ice liked Maverick and spent a lot of time trying to get them together. Time Ice would rather his RIO have spent studying but everyone had to have their hobbies he supposed. And this room-sharing ploy was just the latest in an increasingly embarrassing and obvious attempt to get the two of them together, and then what? The whole thing was ridiculous enough to make Ice laugh. 

“Something funny I should know about?” Maverick asked as they stepped off the stairs, onto the second story, and down a hallway covered in cream wallpaper. 

“Nope.” 

Maverick looked back at Ice over the collar of his leather jacket. The patches covering it shifted under the soft light of the hall. Maverick’s eyebrows drew together in question but he didn’t push it, probably not wanting to push Ice’s thinly veiled annoyance over the edge. 

“Well, I guess this is us.” Maverick stopped by a door at the end of the hall, letting his bag thump against his leg. 

Ice made an unintelligible noise while Maverick unlocked the door and disappeared past it. 

The inside of the room matched the rest of the house. Cream wallpaper, soft lighting, and more flowers than were probably necessary. In fact, every surface seemed to be covered in vases filled with a riot of color. Ice found it oddly charming but…

“Chipper’s not gonna be able to breathe all week,” Maverick said, almost as if he had read Ice’s thoughts. 

Ice glanced at Maverick, already perched on one of the two small beds, a hesitant smile on his lips. An olive branch if ever there was one. Despite his anger at Slider and the forced proximity to Maverick, Ice felt his own answering smile rise to the surface. 

“I was thinking the same thing.” 

Ice kept his gaze fixed on Maverick for a second longer before the shorter pilot coughed and started rummaging through his bag. Ice could swear there was a flush creeping the back of Maverick’s neck. The back of his neck that Ice so desperately wanted to kiss, to see what sounds Maverick would make when he did.

Nope, absolutely not. Ice could not be thinking about things like that. Not now, not here, not ever. 

“Kazansky!” Maverick’s voice pulled him out of the beginnings of a downward spiral. “You ok? You look like you’re gonna hurl.” 

Ice forced what he believed was a reassuring smile onto his face but judging by Maverick’s concerned look, it wasn’t that convincing. “I’m just tired from the car ride, that’s all. I'm going to take a shower and then call it a night.” 

Maverick slowly nodded but Ice didn’t see, as he unceremoniously dumped his stuff on the remaining available bed and all but fled to the bathroom. 

Ice took forever to shower and get ready for bed, hoping that by the time he went back into the room, Maverick would be asleep. Sure enough, the lights were out and Maverick had been reduced to a lump under the blankets when Ice went hunting for an old shirt and boxers to sleep in. The only light in the room came from the moon, just peeking over the treetops outside. 

As quietly as possible, Ice slid into his own bed. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling and the shadows that danced across it. Maverick’s even breathing filled the room and before long, Ice was drifting off to sleep as well. 

~~~

At some point in the early morning, a storm rolled in off the ocean. Ice cracked his eyes open, not sure what woke him. He lay facing the window and watched as thick, heavy fog obscured everything outside. The only thing he could still see were the flowers just outside the window but they had turned gray in the dim light, like the fog had leached all the color out of them. Thunder grumbled in the distance and the first pitter-patters of rain hit the window. 

Something shifted behind Ice and he quickly turned his head, all traces of tiredness disappearing from his body. He was greeted by the sight of Maverick climbing under the blanket and huddling up next to him. 

“What’re you doing?” Ice asked, the early hour making his thoughts sluggish. 

Maverick’s eyes flicked to the window before settling on Ice’s face. His hair, normally semi-under control, was now messed up and wild. Ice briefly wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through it. 

“I don’t like thunderstorms,” Maverick whispered. “Goose usually lets me sleep in his bed but that’s not really an option now, so I thought…” 

Huddled under the blankets, Maverick looked younger, more vulnerable. Something broke in Ice’s heart to see him like this. To him, Maverick was fearless, constantly pushing the boundaries and damning the consequences. Ice couldn’t speak. 

Taking his silence for something else, Maverick started to get up. Ice’s heart skipped a beat and he quickly reached out and grabbed Maverick’s hand. 

“Wait.” His voice was rough with sleep and he couldn’t ignore the way Maverick’s eyes widened. “Stay.” 

Slowly, Maverick sank back into bed and let Ice draw the blanket up over him. Ice had never let go of Maverick’s hand and when he noticed and started to draw away, Maverick intertwined their fingers. There was a question in his eyes as he gazed at Ice but a quick squeeze made it disappear. 

Ice knew he was crossing the line into a place he would likely never return from but that didn’t seem to matter in the early morning when time stood still. Besides, he told himself, you’re just helping a friend out, nothing else. 

Thunder roared again, closer this time, and Ice noticed the way Maverick’s shoulders were hunched. Without a word, he eased closer to Maverick and gently pulled the other pilot against his chest. Automatically, Maverick draped his arms around Ice’s waist and hugged him closer. He sighed gently, his breath tickling the side of Ice’s neck. Ice’s heart beat double time and he desperately hoped Maverick wouldn’t notice. 

Outside, the rain had started to dump in earnest. Flashes of light accompanied the thunder that increased both in intensity and frequency. With every crack and boom, Maverick’s body tensed against Ice. He took to running his hands up and down Maverick’s back to calm him, whispering mindless reassurances in his ear. Maverick’s hands clung to Ice’s shirt and somehow, his legs became tangled with Ice’s. 

Then, it felt like the heavens opened above them and a crack of thunder shook the house, rattling the windows, and startling the two of them beyond anything else that night. In the flash of light that accompanied it, Ice saw Maverick’s face twist. He needed a distraction and quickly. 

Without thinking, Ice reached out a hand to cup Maverick’s cheek and closed the distance between them. His lips brushed against Maverick’s, lighting a fire under his skin. How often had he thought of doing this? How many times had he dreamed of tasting Maverick’s lips? A lot, but never like this. 

Ice’s eyes flew open and he drew back quickly, coming to his senses a second too late and realizing how big of a mistake he had just made. An apology sprung to his lips but never left them when he saw Maverick’s expression. 

Ice had come to recognize the guarded look Maverick wore every day in front of everyone. But as the two of them lay together, their faces inches apart, he no longer looked so distant. His eyes were dark, half-lidded, and his lips parted ever so slightly. Even in the dim light, Ice could see the blush that tinged his cheeks. There was something so open, so vulnerable about seeing him like this. 

“Why’d you stop?” Maverick whispered, his voice nearly drowned out by the rain. 

Ice shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

The ghost of a smile graced Maverick’s lips. “Kiss me again.” 

Ice starred at Maverick. Maverick rolled his eyes and tugged Ice towards him. When their lips brushed again, it was feverish. After a few seconds, Ice kissed him back. He felt Maverick’s hands move to grip his waist. 

Maverick shifted his weight and Ice helped him so that he could sit up and straddle Ice’s hips. Their dog tags tangled as Maverick leaned down to kiss Ice again. His hands ghosted up Maverick’s thighs, earning a moan. Maverick retaliated by dropping his head to kiss along Ice’s neck. As gently as he could, Ice threaded his fingers into Maverick’s hair and tugged his head up so they were face to face. 

“What are we doing?” Ice breathed, already missing the feeling of Maverick’s lips. 

Something sparked in Maverick’s eyes. “I thought that was obvious. Or do you need me to spell it out for you, Kazansky?” 

Ice tightened his grip on Maverick’s hair. The pilot flinched as the thunder roared again. The silence between them stretched on for a moment too long, breaking whatever spell they seemed to be under. 

“Just tell me to go and I’ll leave. We’ll never talk about it again,” Maverick finally whispered, his eyes no longer meeting Ice’s. 

“Mitchell, what’re you talking about?” 

But Maverick was already pulling away. His weight disappeared from Ice’s lap. He stumbled off the bed and hurriedly grabbed his jacket from where he’d thrown it hours earlier. 

“Mav.” Ice pulled himself out of bed. “Pete, please.” 

Maverick froze at the use of his given name. Ice had never called him that before. Slowly he turned to face the taller man. Ice ran a hand through his hair as he tried to organize his thoughts with little success. Finally, he decided to state the obvious. 

“I kissed you first, remember? If anyone has the right to want to stop this, it’s you,” Ice spoke softly, like he might spook Maverick into running. 

Another boom of thunder sounded, further away this time. The storm was leaving but Maverick’s shoulders still tensed. Ice risked a step towards him. 

“Maybe I don’t want to stop it,” Maverick finally said, his voice strained. 

Ice took step after step until he was right in front of Maverick. He gently put a finger under Maverick’s chin and forced his gaze up. Ice was surprised to see unshed tears in his eyes. Maverick shivered at Ice’s touch. 

“Maybe I don’t want you to either,” he whispered. 

Maverick blinked and hope flickered in his eyes. Something released in Ice’s chest and the tension that he’d been holding onto since the day he met Maverick melted away. It wasn’t a complete confession, but it would have to do for now. 

“Please come back to bed,” Ice murmured, running his fingers over Maverick’s jawline. “With me?” 

Maverick nodded and wordlessly followed Ice to the small bed that had slowly become theirs. They had scarcely laid down again when Ice caught Maverick’s lips in a searing kiss and they didn’t talk for quite sometime after as they rode out the rest of the storm, together. 

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky Master List

✧ Angst | ☾ Fluff | ❀ Smut

When it Rains, it Pours ☾

The long-suffering RIOs play matchmaker, ft: idiots pining, forced proximity, and my personal headcanon that Maverick hates thunderstorms.

Iceman x Maverick

Warnings: Cussing, minor suggestive content, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst, Goose lives (yay), no beta reading, and possible misspellings (words are hard ok?)

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell Master List

✧ Angst | ☾ Fluff | ❀ Smut

When it Rains, it Pours ☾

The long-suffering RIOs play matchmaker, ft: idiots pining, forced proximity, and my personal headcanon that Maverick hates thunderstorms.

Iceman x Maverick

Warnings: Cussing, minor suggestive content, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst, Goose lives (yay), no beta reading, and possible misspellings (words are hard ok?)

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

The Dress

Summary: A shopping trip leaves Bob with a new obsession.

Pairing: Bob x gf!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, making out in public places, and no beta reading so good luck

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Remind me again why I can’t just wear my uniform?” You ask, annoyance creeping into your voice. “It would make everything so much easier.” 

You gather a handful of fabric in your hand and twist back and forth in front of the mirrors. Try as you might, you still can’t properly see the back of the dress you’re currently trying on. The pale blue fabric scratches against your hand and you let it drop with a frustrated sigh. 

Behind you, your boyfriend chuckles lightly. Without having to turn, you glare at him in the mirror. Bob holds his hands up in surrender as he moves to stand next to you. 

“Because this technically isn’t a Navy function,” Bob reminds you gently. “So you’re not required to wear your uniform.” 

You sigh again. You hate shopping on a deadline. Especially when none of the options are grabbing your attention. 

“And,” your boyfriend’s voice lowers, the southern drawl becoming more pronounced. “I want to see you all dressed up. Want to show you off.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. When you glance over at him, his eyes are dark behind his glasses watching you. 

You’d met Bob a few years ago when you’d both been assigned to the same squadron. There hadn’t been anything between you at first, just an appreciation for your skill as a pilot and his as a WSO. And while both of you flew with other WSOs and pilots respectively, you’d still found time to hang out and get to know each other. 

Aircraft carriers are lonely places and before long, the two of you struck up a friendship that quickly devolved into other things. And that was how, nearly two years later, you were spending your weekend in a dress shop with your boyfriend, trying on dresses for a mutual friend’s engagement party. 

“I’m just gonna…” you trail off, gesturing vaguely at the dressing room. 

Bob nods and steps back to give you your space as you gather the dress up and make your way across the large, empty room to the curtained-off section. You feel his eyes on you up until the curtain falls shut. 

Inside the dressing room, it looks like a bomb went off. Rejected dresses hang haphazardously on their hooks, a mess of colors and fabrics. The blue dress you’re wearing joins them. The airconditioned air hits your bare skin and you shiver as you consider the next option. 

Three more dresses hang on the “yet to be tried” hook. With resignation, you reach for the top one, a lovely peach dress with a long skirt and plunging neckline. But you have a hard time getting excited about it. 

The strap of the dress catches on another hook and you tug, trying to free it. A hint of red grabs your attention. You hang the peach dress back up, already forgotten, and reach to pull the red one out. Silk brushes against your fingers. You’d forgotten about this one. 

Normally, when you weren’t in uniform, you preferred to wear soft, pale colors and loose-fitting outfits. You liked how they fit and how they complimented your skin. That familiarity was reflected in the choice of dresses you’d picked out to try today. All of them, that is, save this one, which you’d impulsively grabbed and buried under the safer options. 

Quickly, and without second-guessing yourself, you slip into the red silk dress. The soft fabric falls around your thighs and the neckline gathers just above the swell of your breasts. You twist, watching the way the dress hugs your curves. The silk feels cool against your skin and you can just make out the crisscross of thin laces showing off your back. 

You take a breath, readying a quick joke, and push back the curtain. But anything you might have said dies on your tongue as Bob’s gaze falls on you. For a moment, neither of you moves as your boyfriend takes in the dress. You swear you can feel the heat from his gaze as his eyes drink in every bit of red silk and exposed skin. 

You finally break the silence. “So, thoughts?” 

You move to stand in front of one of the large mirrors spaced throughout the room. You pretend to fuss with the dress but you track Bob in the mirror as he comes to stand behind you. 

“Where were you hiding this?” He asks, his voice dangerously low. 

You shrug, feeling emboldened by the effect the dress is having on Bob. “Do you like it?” 

Bob doesn’t reply right away. Instead, his hands come to rest on your hips. You feel the heat of them through the thin fabric. The breath catches in your throat as an ache pools in your stomach and sinks lower. Bob presses his body against yours and you bite your lip, hard. 

His hands brush against your sides as they travel upwards. The silk drags with them. Your breath hitches and you lean back against Bob. He hums approvingly and you lightly shift your hips to relieve the ache building between your legs. 

Still quiet, Bob’s hands come to rest cupping your breasts. Your eyelids flutter and your head drops back to rest against his shoulder as he gently squeezes. A whimper escapes your throat. 

“Look at you,” he breathes, his breath tickling your ear. “Look at what you do to me.” 

You just manage to crack open your eyes to meet Bob’s gaze in the mirror. His eyes are dark with want. The same is reflected in yours. 

Through the haze, however, one thought is crystal clear. 

“Bobby.” He groans at your whispered use of the nickname. “We’re in public.” 

Technically, the shop attendant had left the two of you alone but there was the very real possibility that she would return any moment. And as adventurous as you were, you didn’t want to get caught going at it in a dress shop of all places. None of your friends would let you live it down. 

Bob considers this as he casts a hasty glance around the room. You watch his eyes land on the curtained-off dressing room. An idea blossoms on Bob’s face and before you know it, he’s pulling you into the small space and tugging the curtain shut. 

You giggle, watching him trip over the dresses you’d rejected. Bob shoots you a smirk before pining you against the wall, his lips finding yours. Tulle tickles your cheek but you ignore it. Instead, you throw your arms around Bob’s neck and deepen the kiss. 

Bob’s calloused hands run over your thighs, setting your skin on fire. Your breath quickens as he hitches one leg, then the other, up and around his waist. Without thinking, you tighten your legs, drawing him closer to you. He groans into your lips and you smile. 

You can feel him against your core, your clothes the only thing separating the two of you. You rock your hips just to feel something. Bob pushes his hands up under the dress to grab at your hips, making the fabric ride up and pool in your lap. His fingers dig into your skin and you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow. You hum in pleasure at the thought. 

Bob pulls back from your lips and you’re about to complain when he dips his head and trails searing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. Your head knocks painfully back against the wall, but you don’t feel it through the haze of your pleasure. Everywhere Bob’s lips press, your skin burns and you want more. You want it so badly, you’re beginning to rethink your stance on public indecency when a voice breaks through your spinning thoughts. 

“Are you doing alright in there miss?” 

Bob’s head jerks up, his expression of abject horror mirroring your own.

“Miss?” The shop attendant’s voice is closer now. 

Bob’s eyes widen, silently begging you to say something. You cough hastily, your thoughts tripping over one another. 

“Everything’s fine.” You manage to get out. 

Your voice is a little out of breath but you’re proud of how normal you sound overall. However, there are no footsteps that indicate the attendant leaving. 

“Actually,” you say, getting an idea. “I think I may need a larger size of the…” 

You trail off, fumbling with the tag of the nearest dress. 

“The Sky Lark dress, size four.” 

“I’ll be right back with that miss. Anything else?” 

“No,” you say, praying the shop attendant will leave. 

Only when you hear her receding footsteps do you dare disentangle yourself from Bob. He helps you stand on trembling legs and throws a nervous smile your way. You grin in return, relieved. 

“That was some quick thinking,” he says and you note the flush in his cheeks. 

You shrug, like making out in dressing rooms is a common thing for the two of you. “I guess it’s just my keen pilot instincts at work.” 

Bob laughs in relief as the two of you make yourselves look presentable again. After a moment of silence, he opens his mouth. 

“You’re getting the dress though.” There’s no room for argument. 

So that was how, when you finally left the dress shop hours later, it was with two drastically different dresses and a boyfriend detailing everything the two of you would be doing once you got home and back into that red dress. 

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

Robert 'Bob' Floyd Master List

✧ Angst | ☾ Fluff | ❀ Smut

The Dress ❀

A shopping trip leaves Bob with a new obsession.

Bob x gf!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, making out in public places, and no beta reading so good luck

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

The Joke's On You

Summary: In which Hangman makes a joke and Rooster takes it literally.

Pairing: Rooster x Hangman and Bob x Phoenix (if you squint)

Word Count: 1.6k

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol, cussing, minor suggestive thoughts, and no beta reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gravel crunched under the tires of Rooster’s Bronco as he pulled it into the driveway already packed with cars. With precision born only through years of flying, he inched his truck forward and slid it into park. As the engine cut out, the sounds of the outside world flooded in. 

Loud hollers and music leaked through the open windows of the base house he’d pulled up to. It looked the same as its neighbors with its white-washed walls and tiled roof, but nowhere else on the empty lane held as much energy as the house he now sat in front of. 

“Rooster!” 

Rooster snorted in amusement as Phoenix burst out the front door and down the porch steps. She held a beer in one hand and wildly waved the other to get his attention. Bob followed her closely, a fond smile tugging at the corners of the WSO’s lips. 

“Are you planning to spend the entire night in that thing?” Phoenix asked as she sidled up to the open window. 

Rooster braced his arms against the frame and looked down at his best friend. “And what if I was?” 

Phoenix rolled her eyes, used to Rooster’s teasing. But she stepped back as he opened the door and stepped out. 

“Hey Bob,” Rooster greeted the man with a friendly clap on the back. 

Summer had ended a week ago but the weather wasn’t inclined to listen to an arbitrary calendar date. As a result, the stifling Southern California heat hadn’t let up and it gave no indication that it would anytime soon. 

Heat radiated off the gravel as Rooster and his welcoming committee trudged up to the house. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and all he could think about was cracking open a cold beer. 

Inside, the heat wasn’t any better. If possible, it might have been worse.

The loud conversation drifted down the hall reminding Rooster of why he was there in the first place. Phoenix and Bob had invited the Daggers, plus a few others, over for dinner and drinks. But mostly drinks. 

Rooster had no issue finding his way to the back of the house even though he didn’t live there. Once you’d been in one base house, you’d been in all of them, regardless of how the current tenants choose to decorate the space.

He did a quick round of greetings before heading to the kitchen to find the cold beer. Or water, or really anything that wasn’t oppressively hot. 

Maverick sat on the couch, surrounded by young pilots, as he recounted some story from his own time at Top Gun. By the winces, he had to assume it was the cautionary tale about singing to women in bars. Phoenix and Bob had retreated into the corner, talking quietly while he could just make out Coyote talking to Yale and Harvard on the back porch. Rooster did a quick sweep of the room, looking for Hangman, but came up empty. 

Weird. Hangman never passed up an opportunity to hang out and drink. 

With that in mind, Rooster moved to the kitchen. But just as he went to crack open a can of beer he’d found, the rustling of plastic bags got his attention. 

“Rooster.” The newcomer greeted him. 

Rooster felt his lips twitch and he fought to keep them from breaking into a smile. 

“Hangman.” 

He turned to see the man in question setting several grocery bags on the counter. 

“‘Nix sent me to the store because she forgot a few things,” Hangman said, answering Rooster’s bemused expression. 

“She’s got you running errands now?” Rooster laughed, lifting his beer to take a sip. 

Hangman scowled and in one swift motion, plucked the can from the other’s hand and took a long drink. 

“Not a word Rooster. Not a word,” Hangman hissed, backing slowly out of the kitchen, the beer still clutched in his hand. 

Rooster chuckled and grabbed another can before following the other man out to the backyard. 

Here’s the thing. Rooster had a bit of a thing for Hangman but he would never admit it out loud. He always had, even before being called back to Top Gun. Yes, they argued a lot and yes, there was that little rivals routine, but following the Uranium Mission, things between them had calmed down considerably. They had settled into a truce of sorts and Rooster caught Hangman acting friendly towards him more and more often. 

Hangman had planted himself on the back porch stairs. Rooster nodded to Coyote and the others as they passed him, heading back inside, and leaving him alone with the other pilot. Rooster leaned against the railing, gazing off towards the setting sun. 

The sky lit up a deep orange color and the few clouds that drifted across it blazed in the dying light. The dark silhouettes of palm trees swayed back and forth and somewhere in the distance, seagulls screeched. 

“You want something Bradshaw?” Hangman asked after a few moments of silence. 

Bradshaw. Not Rooster. Just Bradshaw. 

Rooster had noticed Hangman using his given name more than his callsign recently and he would be lying if it didn’t send a thrill through his body just to hear it. 

When Rooster didn’t answer him right away, Hangman turned to look at him. His eyes narrowed, looking up at the other man, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he patted the space next to him. 

Taking the invitation, Rooster settled onto the stair next to the other man. His skin tingled. He still wasn’t used to being so close to Hangman without shouting or being seconds away from a fight. 

It felt…nice.

To distract himself from those thoughts, Rooster took a sip of beer. He welcomed the sting of alcohol. 

A burst of laughter behind them made him jump. He turned to look. In the fast-dimming light, a yellow glow spilled from the window and out onto the porch. Everyone inside was lit with soft light as they talked and relaxed for what seemed like the first time in forever. A small smile tugged at Rooster’s lips just to see his newfound family enjoying themselves. 

He turned back to watch the sunset but paused. Hangman had his knees tucked up under his chin and was gazing off into the distance. The light of the dying sun warmed the pilot’s face, softening the normally sharp angles of his face. Even his hair, which was normally so carefully maintained, had been tousled. 

Rooster felt his breath stick in his throat. Hangman was attractive. You’d have to be blind to say otherwise. But this was a whole new level that Rooster had never seen before. It was overwhelming. 

That was why, when Hangan turned to look at him, having felt Rooster staring, he couldn’t look away. 

The infuriating, signature smirk crawled onto Hangman’s lips as he drawled. “Whatcha looking at Bradshaw?” 

The normally elusive Texan drawl surfaced as he spoke and it was all Rooster could do to keep from groaning. 

Hangman continued, his voice lowering, teasing. “What’re you gonna do? Kiss me?” 

Rooster blinked, startled. Was he that obvious? 

The smirk grew and something shut off in Rooster’s brain. Later, he would wonder what possessed him at that moment. Maybe it was the challenge in Hangman’s voice, the curiosity of what his lips would feel like against his own, or maybe, just maybe, Rooster wanted the opportunity to shut the other man up and leave him speechless. 

Whatever it was, it had Rooster leaning towards Hangman. The smirk slipped, only to be replaced by something else. Something guarded yet soft. 

Rooster hesitated, inches away from Hangman’s face. His eyes flicked down to the pilot’s lips. He wanted so desperately to taste them, to finally see what they felt like. But he didn’t want to force Hangman into anything.

But instead of drawing back, Hangman lifted his hand towards Rooster’s cheek. Normally steady, it trembled now. As his fingers brushed lightly against his scars, Rooster unconsciously leaned into the touch. 

Then, in the blink of an eye, Hangman closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Rooster’s. It wasn’t gentle or shy. It was bold and tinged with hunger.

A can was knocked over but Rooster barely heard it as he wound his hands into Hangman’s hair and pulled him in closer. The soft locks slipped through his fingers and he tugged, earning a quiet moan from Hangman. Rooster smiled, filing that away for later. 

Hangman’s hand trailed down Rooster’s face to rest against his neck. His thumb lightly brushed Rooster’s jawline, making him shiver. The calluses on Hangman’s fingers, born out of the years flying, rubbed against his soft skin. 

After what could have been minutes, or mere seconds, Hangman pulled away to catch his breath. A sigh escaped Rooster’s throat at his sudden absence. 

“Fuckin finally!” A voice startled them. 

Rooster whipped his head around to see Phoenix grinning in the window. She held her beer up in a smug salute. Behind her stood Bob, holding a thumbs up and wearing an equally shit-eating grin. Then, the two of them disappeared, leaving Rooster and Hangman alone again. 

Hangman groaned. “She’s never going to let us hear the end of it, is she?” 

Rooster noticed Hangman hadn’t drawn his hand away, still brushing his thumbs over Rooster’s jaw. They left a trail of flames in their wake. 

“Never.” 

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin Master List

✧ Angst | ☾ Fluff | ❀ Smut

The Joke's On You ☾

In which Hangman makes a joke and Rooster takes it literally.

Hangman x Rooster

Warnings: alcohol, cussing, minor suggestive thoughts, and no beta reading

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw Master List

✧ Angst | ☾ Fluff | ❀ Smut

The Joke's On You ☾

In which Hangman makes a joke and Rooster takes it literally.

Hangman x Rooster

Warnings: alcohol, cussing, minor suggestive thoughts, and no beta reading

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace Master List

✧ Angst | ☾ Fluff | ❀ Smut

"Kiss me" "What-"✧

What feelings surface when you get jealous?

Phoenix x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: jealousy, suggestive comments/thoughts, minor physical descriptions, military inaccuracies, and no beta reading

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

Top Gun Master List

Links will be updated as fics are published.

Requests are also open!

Top Gun '86

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell

Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw

Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky

Ron 'Slider' Kerner

Charlotte 'Charlie' Blackwood

Top Gun Maverick

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace

Robert 'Bob' Floyd

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Javy 'Coyote' Machado

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

“Kiss me” “What-”

Summary: What feelings surface when you get jealous? 

Pairing: Phoenix x f!reader (no use of y/n) 

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Jealousy, suggestive comments/thoughts, minor physical descriptions, no use of y/n, military inaccuracies, and zero, absolutely zero, beta reading 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a hot day. Much hotter than it had been in anyone’s recent memory. But if they had thought the heat would abide when the sun went down, they were in for a rude awakening.

You leaned against the railing of the Hard Deck, staring off into the distance at the crashing waves further down the beach. You sighed, imagining how nice the cool water would feel against your near-feverish skin. There was no breeze to speak of and you half-heartedly fanned yourself with your hand. A quickly warming glass of Jack and Coke sat near your elbow. 

Behind you, the usual sounds of the bar filled the air. Laughter, yells, and even cheering as some poor person unknowingly subjected themselves to buying a round for the entire crowd. You felt your lips twitch as you glanced over your shoulder to see who it was, but your gaze fell on someone else entirely.

You had only stepped out for a moment but in that time, the naval aviators you had become friends with over the past several weeks had shown up. A quick wave from the short brunette made you push away from the railing and step back into the stifling bar.

As you pushed past several nameless servicemen, your heart did a little flip-flop. Natasha Trace, more casually known as “Phoenix” among her fellow pilots, had caught your attention from the first moment you’d met her. Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but she possessed a lightning-quick wit and packed more comebacks than anyone you knew. How could you have avoided falling for her?

And it didn’t help that from the beginning, the two of you had fallen into a routine of effortless flirting that stayed surface level, never leading to anything more than covert glances and a few accidental brushes. But it was enough to quicken your heartbeat and send pleasant tingles all over your body.

“Hey,” Phoenix said, patting the empty seat next to her as you approached. “Saved you the best seat in the house.”

Quickly you sat down, your knees oddly shaky. You only hoped the blush you felt creeping up your neck wasn’t noticeable in the dimming light.

“You look pretty tonight.” Phoenix had to lean closer to be heard over the music and drunken cheering. 

You could feel her breath kiss the column of your neck and it was all you could do to sit still. To give your hands something to do, you smoothed the fabric of your sundress. Small yellow flowers stared up at you.

“How come this is the first time I’m seeing you in a dress?” Phoenix asked, her eyes tracing over the thin fabric that fell around your thighs.

You shrugged, trying to act casual but your slightly breathless voice gave you away. “Never had any reason to, I guess. Or anyone to dress up for.”

That, and the Southern California heat was murder.

Phoenix tilted her head slightly, her perfectly styled hair shining in the overhead lights. Her eyes continued to trace over your body and you willed your heart to not beat out of your chest despite its valiant effort to do just that.

Eventually, she spoke and her voice was almost a whisper. “If I had it my way, you would wear dresses all the time. That is when you’re not busy wearing nothing at all.”

A light gasp escaped your lips. Phoenix’s eyes sparkled and she grinned, clearly pleased by your reaction. Her eyes raked down your body again and you could feel the blush returning. The pilot had never said anything so blunt. It caught you off guard. 

Thankfully, a quick word from Hangman had Phoenix distracted long enough for your skin to cool and your mind to start working again. At first, you were grateful for the distraction but that quickly turned to annoyance when Hangman enlisted Phoenix’s help in a game of pool against two men you didn’t recognize. By their tan uniforms, you had to assume they were also Navy but you were sure you hadn’t seen them around before.

You let out an impatient sigh and contented yourself by glaring at the back of Hangman’s head. That man had the worst timing.

Your eyes slid to Phoenix who causally leaned against the pool table, her head thrown back, laughing at something one of the strangers had said. A tight knot bunched in your stomach. Tension tightened your limbs as you watched the other girl talk with the strangers. 

The game started and jabs were thrown but you couldn’t hear them over the den. Phoenix stood off to the side to let Hangman shoot. One of the strangers sidled up to her and struck up a conversation. The knot tightened. The slow seep of resentment crept into your bones, making you irritated. 

Just as Phoenix laughed at something the man said, something inside you snapped. Sure, nothing ever happened between the two of you, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want something to happen. And if Hangman hadn’t interrupted earlier, it might have. Now this strange man was getting all of Phoenix’s attention.

It should have been you.

Annoyed at yourself for feeling this way and letting it get to you in the first place, you stood and quickly walked back outside. 

The sun had fully set, the last hints of color fading from the sky. A slight breeze had picked up, relieving an otherwise unbearable evening. In the distance, the sound of waves crashing against the sand reached your ears.

You took a deep breath of the salty air and closed your eyes. You tried to calm your mind and sort out your feelings with no luck.

It was undeniable. You had fallen for Phoenix at some point but you just couldn’t pinpoint when. Sometime between the stolen glances, the back-and-forth chatter, and the laughter. The pilot had wormed her way into your heart and was now breaking it, all without her knowing. 

You risked a glance over your shoulder to see if Phoenix was still with the stranger, but you couldn’t find either of them. They must have left. You probably should too, because you felt weirdly hollow inside.

You had just turned to walk back to your car when someone spoke.

“There you are.”

Phoenix materialized at your side and it was all you could do not to jump. As it was, you did take a couple of steps back. 

The easy grin on her face faltered and she reached out to wipe a tear from your cheek. You hadn’t noticed it had fallen.

“Is everything ok?” She asked, worry knitting her eyebrows together.

You nodded, not quite trusting your voice.

“Did something happen?” Concern was evident in her voice.

“No,” you whispered, barely finding your voice. “I’m just tired. I think I should head home.” 

“If this is about that guy,” Phoenix said, thrusting her thumb back at the pool tables. “He’s just a friend from basic I hadn’t seen in a while. There’s nothing going on between us.”

“It’s not that.”

Phoenix took a step forward. You barely registered that she was now in your space. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, trying to meet your eyes but you were gazing off into the gathering darkness beyond the railing.

You heard Phoenix blow out a long breath. Her fingers drummed faintly against the material of her pants.

“Truth is, I like you a lot. And I’ve wanted to tell you for some time now, but I didn’t know how to. Plus, I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way about me.”

In disbelief, you met Phoenix’s eyes. A shy smile graced her lips.

It wasn’t one-sided after all?

“Was that too much?” She asked, her smile slipping slightly. “I just thought-”

“Kiss me.”

“What-”

“Kiss me,” you repeated, your eyes never leaving hers.

Slowly, Phoenix brought her hands up to cradle your face. You nearly sighed feeling the light touch of her fingers. With one final step, she brought herself into your orbit completely. Her lips brushed yours ever so slightly and you could taste a hint of beer on them.

You settled your shaking hands on her waist and deepened the kiss. Glossed lips met chapped in a cautious dance of discovery. Somehow it was everything you’d imagined and more. Phoenix kissed like she flew, confident with a hint of recklessness.

Her hands threaded into your hair, pulling you closer. The skin where her fingers brushed, burned and you couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like to have her hands on other parts of your body. You shivered at the thought.

Eventually, the two of you pulled away to catch a breath. It was all you could do not to whine at the loss of her lips. You rested your foreheads against one another, panting slightly.

“That was-”

“Yeah,” Phoenix laughed breathlessly.

“Do it again.” 

She eagerly complied and it was a long time before either of you went back into the bar to join your friends. 

[the-sun-and-the-sky]

somehow never posted this i’m so sorry bobnix warriors pls forgive me