Top Gun: You Can Be My Wingman (Maverick X Reader)

Graduation.

I barely hear the voices around me as the pilots and RIOs chatter amongst themselves, my mind elsewhere. Absentmindedly, I chew on the bitten nails of my hand, a habit I've developed over the last month or so, since Goose died, some form of nervous tick that helps me cope with the situation. To my side, Hawk carefully reaches over and pulls my hand away from my face, smiling reassuringly at me.
"He'll turn up, don't worry." The young RIO promises, adjusting his cap over his mess of tawny hair, golden eyes watching me as I shift in my seat.
"I hope so." I tug at the sleeve of my uniform, the pressed white fabric uncomfortable and hot in the blazing sun, a downfall of graduating outside.
Since the crash, Maverick has not been the same. Unlike me, who was able to pick myself up again and continue flying at a similar standard to before, Pete found it much harder, actively blaming himself for what happened, even after the inquiry board confirmed it was an unlucky accident, meaning he ultimately gave up in the end. When flying, he often pulled away from the battle, muttering "Not good, not good" into the mic, his confidence levels low, almost running dry. Everyone was affected by what happened; Hawk told me he'd even heard Iceman apologising to Maverick, which would never normally have happened, and many others had done the same. My nightmares had gotten worse, Goose and Maverick now joining the corpse of Matthew as he falls into the void, screaming at me, their voices adding to the haunting sounds, but I knew Maverick's were worse. He turned up to training with dark circles under his eyes, his weight decreasing from lack of hunger for food, his interest in doing well fading with it. I'd seen him clasping Goose's dog tags in his hand many times, his thumb idly tracing the engraved words, his conscience unable to let go of the RIO's memory.
I have no idea if he is going to come as I sit there, my mind replaying our short conversation at the airport the night before. I'd had to chase him there, following his motorbike with my own motorcycle, finally catching him in the cafe inside, trying to coax him into coming back, at least to the graduation. I knew I was the only reason he'd stayed for so long; I'd taken it upon myself to help him out of his problems, but somehow it hadn't worked. In my head, I'd thought he would accompany me back to the base, but in reality, he seemed abrupt and unwilling to come back, disregarding my words almost immediately. It hurt thinking about it; I'd come to have much stronger feelings for him and hearing him dismiss me was one of the worst things to face, but I knew he was unbearably upset, so I tried to let it slide.
Someone starts to read out some speech from the stage, the commander looking smart and professional in his own white and black uniform, sharp eyes raking over the graduates proudly. The words enter my ears, unlistened to, my mind unwilling to process them. A couple of lines are said about Matthew and Goose, congratulating their bravery and acknowledging their skill, as well as a quick sentence addressing Maverick and I, despite the former's absence. Finally, the commander announces who has won the trophy.
Unsurprisingly, it is Iceman and Slider, the two going up to claim their prize as everyone cheers. I make the effort to smile wearily at them, clapping with the rest, even though my heart isn't with it. As everyone gets up to speak with them and each other, I do the same, casting my eyes around the area, my gaze landing on a familiar pilot standing at the far end.
"You were right, Hawk." I say, nudging my RIO carefully in the ribs.
Confused, he looks at me before following my sight.
"It would appear so." He replies.
Seeing us, Maverick hesitantly walks over, offering a nod in greeting as he passes, going straight to Iceman and Slider.
He congratulates them, shaking their hands evenly, ignoring the stares from others around them. I step up to do the same, avoiding the lingering gaze of Iceman, making my way over to the drinks stand to pick up a glass of water, finding my mouth suddenly dry. Joining me, Maverick looks me up and down subtly, eyes meeting mine as he picks up a glass of water from beside me.
"Congratulations on graduating, (Y/N). You're a great pilot." He says to me, though his face gives nothing away.
"Thank you, but I'm nowhere near as good as you." I respond, fighting the urge to add "or as good as you used to be" , mentally scolding myself for it.
Scoffing, Maverick looks away, ashamed.
"Don't lie to yourself, (Y/N), you're better than me now than I'll ever be. At least you don't back away from a fight."
I look him in the eye, trying to catch his attention.
"That is the most ridiculous thing you've ever said to me." I point out to him, reaching out to lay my hand on his shoulder. Swallowing, he awkwardly shrugs me off, avoiding my now-hurt gaze. Stepping away, he stands by the pool, alone, unwilling to speak with me or anyone else. Ignoring the pain in my heart from his rejection, I turn away to find Hawk, going to stand with him as he converses with another pilot.
A little while later, Viper's sharp voice interrupts the chatter, his tone professional and serious.
"Pilots, we have orders to deploy four pairs of you to aid the USS Enterprise, as it needs help recovering a stricken ship." The commander tells us, unfolding a sheet of paper in his hands, reading off the names, "Iceman, Hollywood, Quicksilver and Maverick, you have been chosen to defend the ship. We expect you to leave as soon as possible."
"Sir, Maverick's flying has been untrustworthy recently. I don't trust he is well enough to fly." Iceman speaks up, concern crossing his features.
"Maverick will be fine." The commander growls in response, turning to the aviator in question, saying something to him, which draws a curious glance from the young pilot.
Quelling the unease rising in me, I think to the mission ahead. I'd never flown for the Enterprise before, but it would be an interesting experience in any case. Hawk looks determined as he shakes hands with Viper, smiling at me over the commander's shoulder. As the latter turns to me, he offers me his hand, which I take. Looking me in the eye, he congratulates me.
"Good luck, Quicksilver, I'm sure you and Hawk will do well." Leaning in closer, he whispers to me: "Look after Maverick, will you?"
Nodding, I set my jaw and look over at the pilot.
"Of course, sir."
I always will.