Top Gun Imagines

Accompanying Advice [Maverick X Reader]

A/N: A properly formatted story I wrote for the description of my ambience above! Have a listen!!

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You'd known Pete Mitchell a long time.

Ever since high school, actually.

You'd seen him go through life's ups and downs... but this...

You sigh, glancing at his darkly sunglassed gaze focused on the road through the mirror of the motorcycle you're on, your arms clinging around his torso.

It's almost as if a broken frown is permanently etched on his features - a look of utter defeat and loneliness haunting his once warm and optimistic gaze.

Goose was gone.

And Pete blamed himself.

You'd spent countless hours assuring the pilot that it indeed was not his fault - you even accompanied him back to the Navy's examination of the incident and heard the verdict: "Not guilty."

But yet, those words fell on the deaf ears of one they call Maverick.

Since then, you'd stuck by him, even if none of his instructors or comrades would.

And so, you find yourself driving along the oceanfront, an assortment of larger houses passing you by like blurs of color.

Then, the bike stops.

Pete clambers off before wordlessly extending a hand to you, which you accept with silent thanks.

The walk up to the doorway is without words - none needing to be said.

You know what he's here for.

He's here for advice.

From one of the best.

Commander Mike "Viper " Metcalf - the very same Viper you'd heard all about from Goose, accompanied by a lively story about Maverick's reckless maneuvers during that training session.

You can ever so vividly recall Nick's lopsided grin, a look being shot towards Pete, who had just huffed.

The pilot in front of you sighs softly, a tiredness in his tone that makes your heart ache from where you stand behind him, hanging back slightly.

The sound of the doorbell echoes back at you both through the screen door, a warm smile appearing mere seconds later, a welcome being extended to the pair of you.

Ushering you both inside while offering numerous things, all of which Pete hastily declines, the bubbly woman scurries off, assuring the brunet that the man carrying the likely advice he seeks would be down in a second, leaving you both to stand rather awkwardly, admiring the plentiful proudly framed pictures and memorabilia adorning the wall of the living room surrounding you.

A few moments pass before a new set of footfalls meet your ears, gaining the attention of you and Pete equally as quick.

"I flew with your old man. The F-51, the Oriskany..." Metcalf greets, raising his own pair of aviators under a scrutinizing gaze, giving them one last look over from the cleaning cloth in his grasp.

"You're a lot like he was. Only better..."

Your own attention is solely focused on the pilot at your side, keeping an eye on his expressions, his eyes alighting with a dull flame of optimism at the older man's words.

"So he did do it right?" He asks, tone wavering slightly.

"Yeah... He did it right." Viper grins softly, grabbing his hat and heading towards the back door, the pair of you in tow.

"Is that why you fly the way you do? Trying to prove something?" He muses aloud, the screen door shutting behind the three of you with a slam, Maverick remaining uncharacteristically silent at the question. "Yeah, your old man did it right. What I'm about to tell you is classified - could end my career."

A silent acknowledgement is shared amongst the two men as you slow your pace slightly, hanging back a bit farther.

And as their chatter becomes slightly distant, your gaze wanders over the crashing waves and sinking sun, painting the water in an array of dazzling oranges and yellows.

"I'm sorry for bothering you on a Sunday, sir, but thank you very much for your time."

That's Pete's voice - you'd recognize it anywhere.

And as the pair shake hands and go their separate ways, the brunet makes his way back over to you, a new-found determination and optimism in his gaze.

His hand finds yours almost instantly, giving it a thankful squeeze.

And as the pair of you wander down onto the soft sand of the coastline, yet another unspoken exchange is shared between you both - an immense thankfulness.

Tuning the portable radio you always seem to find yourself carrying, some soft tunes begin to play, filling the space between you both.

It would seem your pilot has finally found his way back to himself - a grin and a laugh being passed your way that you instantly return as you continue on with Pete's hand held tightly in yours.