Top Gun Imagines

Rainy Recollections [Maverick X Reader]

A/N: Yet another properly formatted version of the story I wrote to accompany a Top Gun ambience video I published to my YouTube channel! (Above!) Also: I do have plans to actually begin writing more "proper" one-shots in here, I've just been busy with my YouTube uploads!

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A gentle rain is splashing onto the small porch of your quarters at Top Gun - a place you'd always just dreamed of being, but now, it's no longer just a dream.

A soft breeze is rippling through the mesh of your open screen door, a distant rumble of thunder accompanying the wind.

It's later than what you should be up, but you can't fall asleep yet.

Not after you'd told him to meet you here five minutes ago.

Usually, when he'd be running late, you'd teasingly scold him of the fact by the time he gets to you. But, considering the circumstances at hand - the state you had found him in when you both had practically collided mere minutes ago after you'd been making your way back to where you are now, having lost track of time studying the specs of the MiG 28.

The very same specs that he'd been the one to provide, based on his encounter with one a while ago.

The usually cocky and upbeat pilot had rather blearily stumbled into you, apologizing with a soft "sorry," that had made you instantly realize something was clearly bothering the one they call Maverick.

Not to mention he didn't even bother to raise his gaze to meet yours, rather, he'd avoided making eye-contact entirely.

So, you'd laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder and invited him for a hot cup of coffee.

And by his slight shift in stance, a thin lipped smile and a small nod, you figured he'd be over.

But, maybe things weren't getting anywhere between the two of you...

After all, ever since you'd met Pete Mitchell, you'd practically ignored him, even as much as he'd tried to gain your attention.

But over the last few weeks, you'd come to realize the error of your ways and gradually, the pair of you had begun to grow closer...

But now, as you wait, peering out into the darkness and rain from your bed, a light sorrow swells within you.

However, it's quickly replaced as a familiarly gentle knock sounds against the wood of your screen door, an evidently forced grin tugging  at his weary features.

Hopping out of bed, you bee-line towards the door, welcoming him in with a smile.

Pete sheds his jacket and hangs it up by the screen door, now closed, before following you in wordlessly, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

And as you pour two mugs of hot water and stir in the instant coffee, the pilot wanders towards your tape deck, rummaging around through your collection of cassettes before settling on one and pressing play.

The soft melodies of a familiar tune, "Sittin' On The Dock of the Bay" by Otis Redding, fill the silence between the pair of you as Maverick takes a seat on the edge of your bed, his green eyes finally raising to meet yours when you hand him his mug.

"This music," He finally speaks, tone carrying a trace of bittersweetness to it.

"It's comforting," You suggest with a grin, taking a seat at his side as he turns to face you with a smile that doesn't seem as forced as before.

"My folks loved it. I haven't heard this in years. My mother used to call down from her room and have me play this song over, and over and I got so... sick of it." The pilot's expression shifts as he raises the mug to his lips, taking a sip of the warm beverage before continuing, a sorrowed fondness in his tone.

"But not her, she... she'd just sit up there alone, just listening. Hours... just listening... She died shortly after him."

Yet another pang of sorrow wells within you as you shift closer to Pete, passing him a reassuring yet curious glance.

"Do you know what happened to your father?"

At this, the man beside you sighs, a frown gracing his features.

"Well, it's a big mystery. He disappeared in an F-4, November 5th, 1965... And the stink of it was; he screwed up." Maverick explains, voice lowering, gaze glimmering with such an array of emotions, it's difficult to tell just what he's feeling.

"No way. My old man was a great fighter pilot."

And then, he frowns once more, turning to face you with such a distraught and sorrowful expression, all you can do is offer a nod to show you're listening.

"But, who the hell knows? It's all... classified."

Now it's your turn to sigh, making your way to your feet and setting your coffee on the nightstand before slipping under the covers.

"Surely someone must know something."

"Yeah, somebody knows everything." Pete grumbles as you pat the vacant spot next to you, his gaze once more falling upon you.

Tossing his shirt to the floor, he wordlessly joins you by your side, the usual glimmer of teasing and cheerfulness back in his warm gaze.

"I'm sorry I was late." He murmurs, reaching for you and pulling you closer, wordlessly conveying his thanks.

"And I'm sorry for being such a jerk to you. I honestly was just-"

But, before you can say any more, a finger is gently pressed against your lips, effectively silencing you.

"No apologies."

And as the relentless weather continues outside, both you and someone who you'd sworn you'd never fall for simply enjoy one another's presence, the soothing tones of the music gradually beginning to lull the pair of you into a slumber.

But, before you fall asleep entirely, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, earning a drowsy grin from the pilot at your side.

And soon enough, you find yourself drifting, with the weather, the music and your partner's soft snores following you.