𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | A Top Gun Fanfiction

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳

» » Takes place during Chapter 31 « «

The farmhouse pulses around Christmas-time. Life fills each room, handmade by my grandfather. There is life crackling in the fireplace, and life caught on photographs perched along the mantle. There's life in my youngest siblings who giggle as Papa retells a misadventure from one of his childhood Christmases. In each of their smiles, there's a piece of our mother. We all have Mama's smile, but I have Papa's eyes. Life glances off the multitude of ornaments, and I'm almost certain it's the secret ingredient in Mama's gingersnaps. Well, not necessarily life...I guess that sounds like something out of a cheesy horror film. Love, I amend, sinking back with a smile. The life in the cookies is Mama's heart and soul. She pours it into everything she touches, including a farm-full of children. I couldn't have asked for a better mother —

Or father.

Papa has an armful of Patrick, lifting him the height of the tree. Every year, a different kid gets to put up Grandma's Christmas Star, but since not a single one of us could remember who went which year, we've never been truly faithful to the tradition. We usually ended up arguing over who remembered what until Mama just volunteered the youngest which, for the past ten years has been Patrick.

He's the lightest, so it's easy for Papa to hold him up awhile.

I've always known Papa to be strong as an ox, but he's aging faster than I care to admit...a bead of fear always pops loose whenever he does something physically exerting. Patrick struggles to screw the star on straight; Carra and Beth bounce around the berth of the tree, shouting directions. Papa's arms wobble. I jerk forward, totally forgetting the pair of arms fastened across my stomach. Maverick pushes me back against his chest just as Patrick successfully attaches the star. I breathe a sigh of relief and snuggle deeper into Maverick. The echo of his laugh up my spine warrants a playful scowl. Maverick scrunches his nose, mildly offended. Clearly not enough to keep his eyes off my lips. Two days ago, Maverick would've quickly averted his gaze, like the mere sight of my mouth had burned him. Yesterday made Maverick a whole new man — around Papa. Now it's me who feels slightly awkward accepting Maverick's kiss in front of my parents, not to mention little Pat, who still thinks babies come from storks.

We keep it brief.

Although Papa gave us his blessing, he sure doesn't wanna see Maverick sticking his tongue down my throat. Besides, Maverick isn't brave enough to want to do that in front of my dad.

It's a simple kiss.

Short, sweet.

Very sweet, I laugh. Ginger and sugar flavoring coats my lips.

I whisk the final gingersnap and shove it in Maverick's mouth.

The living room explodes with laughter. David and I share a look, and he shies away, embarrassed. Nothing gets past Ransom. He loops an arm around David's shoulders, accidentally triggering a skirmish. They grapple with each other, cheered on by Patrick and the girls, scaring Mama with the hot ciders everywhere. Papa is roaring with laughter. Pretty soon, everyone is.

Maverick shakes quietly as we quiet down, the laughter resounding deep inside his chest. I glance over my shoulder at him, feeling too warm in the face to have fluffy socks on. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch and drags his body closer. Smiling, I lean my head on his shoulder, inviting a kiss on the top of my head. Mama hums the intro to the Nat King Cole Christmas Song, and one by one, the Weaver's join in. Maverick peels off my socks for me, singing quietly. Oh so now he's shy? My laugh muddles the lyrics as I affectionately rub the back of Maverick's head.