𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | A Top Gun Fanfiction

Chapter 20: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘵

Like always, I step out onto the runway with Maverick and Goose at my sides. Our helmets aren't yet on, so the sun beats down freely on our scalps. The warm tingle on my cheeks soothes my nerves. I toss my head back, soaking up every last ray of sun. It's a perfect day. The sun is blazing in a baby blue sky. Hardly a cloud is to be seen, and those that laze about are harmless white puffs. Cottonballs in the sea. I crack open an eye behind my aviators. Goose is scratching his head and muttering about the heat. Maverick claps him on the shoulder. I smile. Their friendship reminds me of Vixen and I.

Or, a strangely overdosed-on-masculinity version of what our friendship was.

Is, She corrects. Hello! I'm still here!

My apologies.

She scoffs. You can't even think about anything but Maverick anymore.

I roll my eyes, Isn't that what you wanted? Dropping all those hints?

For the longest time I took her remarks as a joke. A way to lighten the mood, expand my horizons, nudge me into some meaningless relationship so I'd feel something stronger than fear. But she was rooting for us the whole time. Vixen knew exactly what was at play and she was acting in the role of fairy-godmother. A little nudge here, a little magic making there. All to set Maverick and I on a path doomed for a massive head-on collision.

A matchmaker-ghost-fairy godmother.

Seriously?

I stifle a laugh.

You're never gonna let that one go are you?

Nope, I reply.

"Hey, there's Viper."

Mav touches my shoulder and points to our instructor, suited up and ready to go by my jet, The Archer 1. The other jets are all Archers, ranging from 1 to 10, with the exception of Maverick and Goose's jet, Ghostrider, which is from a group of previous jets. Since it's the last one standing, we all have forgotten the number. It's practically peeled off the metal anyways. The Ghostrider is further down the runway than the Archer 1, so we three stop to wish each other luck. We can't all go up at once, so Maverick and Goose are in the second wave with Hollywood and Wolfman as wingmen. Viper and I have Iceman and Slider.

We've flown together before...

When they had Dash.

Will they cooperate because of Viper?

Or rebel because of me?

Maverick slides into my vision and I snap out of my funk. My eyes find his aviators. The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. Wrapped in a beam of sunlight, his skin glittering with premature beads of sweat, he looks absolutely stunning. His hair, his smile, his confidence...I draw from it like a vampire draws blood. Maverick courses through my veins. A smile spreads on my face as the sun gets to me. His hand finds mine, linking our fingers.

"I love you," He says passionately. "You've got this."

Don't cry, don't cry.

"I love you," I croak on the brink of an emotional overload.

Maverick squeezes my hand and backs away slowly, holding my gaze until he's forced to turn his back and follow Goose towards their jet. There's nothing else for me to do but hurry to the Archer 1. Viper's sliding on his helmet when I come to a stop by my ladder. He turns around to face me, one hand on the ladder, one hooked on the straps of his flight suit.

"Stirrups," He greets me with a nod.

"Sir," I tug my hair out of a bun and cram my helmet over my wild mane. "Thank you for volunteering to fly with me today."