Tiny Dancer: A Topgun: Maverick Fanfic

Dinner

Three years before TOPGUN: Maverick.

The lunchroom is crowded with pilots and workers and nurses. I pick up my food, nodding my thanks to the women behind the counter before I glance around the cafeteria. I feel like I am in high school again, looking for a place to sit.

Gustav appears on my right, nudging my elbow.
"We can go sit with them." He suggests, pointing to one of the long tables in the corner of the room. At the end sits Bob and his dark haired friend, a bit of a ways from everyone else.

"I dunno." I say warily, thinking of the scene in the hallway. Gustav raises his eyebrows.

"Are you scared?" He asks mischievously, and I shake my head. "Then come on!"

I follow him as he weaves in between tables and people, stopping next to Bob.

"Hello, boys." Gustav says, putting his tray down at the chair across from the pilot. "Care if we join you?"

"Go ahead." Bob's friend says gruffly. I plop down in the chair across from Bob, and he glances up at me, giving me a quick smile.

"Hi, Kaleigh." He says, before going back to his manual. He appears to be doing research on engines, and I grin at him.

"I'm Gustav." My friend says, reaching out his hand to the pilot.

"Striker." He says. He is a medium sized tank, with broad shoulders and large hands.

  I peer at Bob through the curtain of my bangs, glad he is concentrated on his book. My 'Adorable' comment has had little affect on him, and I am glad. Since he has dropped it without a comment, Gustav has dropped it as well.

"This is shit." Striker mutters.

I stare down at my potato salad, limp green beans and soggy grilled chicken, and I can't help but agree.

"Kale has lived here her whole life." Gustav says, pointing his fork at me. "She knows all the good restaurants in a twenty mile radius. Maybe she can show you around."

I glare at him.

Striker snorts.
"What kind of a name is Kale?" He asks.

Bob looks up at me, and I try to appear unfazed.

"It's a nickname. My name is pronounced 'Kaylee' but my parents decided to be special and spell it
K-a-l-e-i-g-h. I like it, but then no one spells my name correctly. Not on birthday cards, emails, texts...." I trail off, realizing that Striker has lost interest, having returned to his food.
Gustav looks as if he could pass out any minute, and I swallow, realizing I started ranting again.

"That's cool." Bob's voice speaks up. He is looking at me intently from across the table, his eyes watching me. "I would never have spelt your name correctly, if you hadn't told me."

I nod, my heart hammering in my chest.

He cares.

I tear my gaze from his, playing with my hands, which are worn and calloused from years of work.

Everyone at our table is quiet, the sound of the lunchroom filling my thoughts.

  "Hey, Kaleigh." Bob's voice speaks, and he turns his manual towards me. "Isn't this out of date?" He asks.

I peer at the illustration of the jet engine, before tugging it towards me. It seems a little off.. I can't place it, but it's missing... something.

  "Let's go find out." I say, grinning. "Come on."

  He seems startled, but grabs his tray and stands up all the same.

I run through the halls, with Bob huffing next to me.

  "We— aren't— supposed— to run." He says, and I grin.

"What are they gonna do, fire us?" I ask, slowing to a stop at the hangar door.

  "Well, I am trying to get into TopGun." He says while regaining his breath. "I'm trying not to get in to trouble."
 
  "With a friend like me, that might be difficult." I say, holding up the illustration and comparing it to the jet in front of me.

  Bob stands next to me, his breath fanning out across my neck as our eyes move from the booklet to the engine.

  "I mean...." I say slowly. He holds out his hand, brushing my shoulder.

"Right there." He says, pointing. "Those engine flaps are longer and thinner than in the picture."

  "Look at you, Mr. Smarty-pants." I say, grinning. "Maybe you should have been the mechanic!"

He flushes. "Oh no, I think I will stay a WSO."

  I elbow him, grinning.
 

***( eight weeks later )

 

  I sit in my room, tuning my guitar. I am hungry, but I want to get this finished before I grab something to eat.

  I frown, tightening one of the strings again before strumming the instrument. It sounds high pitched, and my frown deepens as I go through loosening the strings again.

There's a knock at the door, and I look up, surprised.

"Come in!"

The door opens slowly, and Bob steps in, his eyes scanning my room before landing on me. He is wearing a orange University of Texas sweatshirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers. I have only seen him out of uniform on a handful of occasions, but every time I think about how adorable he is.

"Hi." He says nervously, and smile at him.

"Hello, Bob!" I say. "How can I help you?"

"Well, I was wondering if you have any plans tonight." He says slowly. He is nervous; I can tell because he is fiddling with his hands.

"Not at the moment, no." I say, putting my guitar on it's stand.

"Well, I was wondering if you would like to go out for, like dinner." He says.

I raise my eyebrows at him.
"Like a date?" I ask. He nods slowly, pulling his eyes from the floor to look me in the face. I grin, standing.

  "Sure!" I say, pulling my hoodie off the chair. "Let's go!"

I'm taking an internet break ya'll, but wanted to get this posted!!!

  Hope you liked it!!

  -❤️Kena