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

Don't Forget

"We've been shot!" Hawk yells into the mic as I pull the jet around in a tight banking turn, firing in return at the bogey currently twisting behind us, teeth gritted in worry as the aircraft engines shudder out. Immediately, I feel the change in speed, the plane struggling to keep at the same pace it was at before, gliding on air currents more than normal.
"I don't think we can keep flying! Do we have permission to return to base?" I call out, speaking to the mics back on the Enterprise, knowing the answer before it comes.
"Negative, Quicksilver, do not land. Disengage, but do not lead them to the carrier!" The command is strong and sharp, the relay mic stuttering only slightly from the distance between us.
"Roger. Disengaging now." I bark into my headpiece, letting my wingmen, Maverick and Iceman, know what I'm doing. Wheeling around, I enter an ascent, breaking the cloud layer to avoid immediate attention, heading into a wide loop surrounding the battle, the jet complaining with every movement. Biting my lip, I allow the aircraft to skim along on the air currents, trying to use the engines as little as possible so as to delay the failure of the two main ones as much as possible.
"Hawk, how we doing on fuel?" I ask over the growl of the engines, eyeing my radar for signs of an approaching bogey.
"Not great, Mav and Ice better hurry up, or we'll crash out." There is a note of worry in his voice, but the RIO remains outwardly calm.
Sweat starts to coat my brow, my heartbeat starting to pick up as fear begins to well up in my mind, horror filling me at the thought of crashing again. Suppressing these emotions, I breathe deeply through my mouth, feeling the oxygen flow through my helmet mouthpiece roughly, the synthetic air sharp and unnatural in my lungs.
"We got one down." Maverick's voice comes through the mic, breathless but relieved.
"Two more to go." Merlin assents, the RIO equally as relieved.
"Make that one!" Slider calls through the mics, tone strained from the pressure around the cockpit.
Hawk curses suddenly behind me before tuning into the conversation, contacting both base and our wingmen.
"We're dangerously low on fuel, we can only just make it back to base if we start now!"
Panic explodes in me at this; I wasn't expecting it to be that low already!
"Get back here now, Quicksilver!" Stinger's voice is clear over the mics, his commanding tone harsh and loud in my ears.
"Roger, returning back to base now!" I reply, hurriedly, pulling the plane abruptly around, heading for the carrier.
Using the strong tailwind as a boost, I guide the plane back into view of the hulking ship in record time, angling into a dive carefully, aiming to line up with the runway, but I notice something is wrong.
"Crap, I'm too low!" I reveal to Hawk, who has also noticed.
"You really are! Pull up!"
Straining, I yank the joystick back, pulling the nose of the jet into a hurried climb, the sudden movement drawing a groan from the dying engines. Reacting slowly, the aircraft continues on at an ever-slowing pace towards the Enterprise, the velocity leaking away with the use of the engines.
"We're not gonna make it!" Hawk shrieks behind me, panic and worry lacing his voice.
Setting my jaw and gritting my teeth, I growl back at him over the concerning noises.
"Yes, we will." With that, I increase the thrust one last time, pulling the plane up just in time for the landing gears to touch the runway, quickly decreasing the thrust as I feel the jet catch on the wiring, slowing very abruptly. Jolting with the impact, I apply the brakes, relieved to have made it in one piece, sighing loudly as we taxi to a stationary position.
"Thank god! You really are an amazing pilot, Quicksilver!" The RIO breathes into the mic, patting me on the head in friendly gratitude.
"Thanks, Hawk!" I say, opening the cockpit and unbuckling myself, quickly getting out of the seat as the ground staff come over to check the plane. Looking at it, I take in the lines of gouges in the metalwork, the holes littering the smooth surfaces like pinpricks in a dartboard.
"That's not good." I muse to myself, pulling off my helmet before turning away and leaving to go and get changed into my ground uniform, quickly gesturing to Hawk as I do so.
Entering the small changing room, I strip off my flight gear and grab a towel, stepping into the shower set into the wall across from me before finally starting to relax again. I leave the towel on a hook on the wall, before turning on the lukewarm water, adjusting the temperature as much as possible until it is just right, relishing in the scalding liquid as it runs down my sweaty skin. Cleaning myself with the provided soap, I work out the knots in my muscles, rubbing my aching joints as I feel the tension leave, already looking forward to sitting in my room and do nothing, though I know I need a debrief before anything can happen.
Ten minutes later, having washed myself thoroughly, I return to my locker, pulling out my carefully folded uniform, the fabric immaculate and clean as I slip it on. Rolling my shoulders to adjust to the tight fitting shirt, I vaguely acknowledge that someone has walked in, the door creaking and banging unceremoniously as they enter. Not paying any attention to them, assuming it to be ground staff, I continue to sort through the stuff in my locker, positioning my helmet and other gear so that it doesn't fall out when I next open it, pausing when I get the sudden sensation of being watched, now uncomfortably aware of the person standing directly behind me.
Turning, I start in surprise when I recognise Iceman grinning at me, for once not chewing any gum. The pilot is out of his flight gear and is clean, his uniform as smart as mine, if not smarter, his eyes flicking down to my feet and back up again in quick succession as he blatantly checks me out.
"What're you doing here?" I blurt out, confusion lacing my voice.
Gaze returning to mine, the aviator stops grinning, his face becoming soft and caring as he watches my reaction.
"I wanted to talk to you. Alone." Ice drawls, his voice gentle but pressing at the same time.
"Ok, what about?" I inquire, curiosity now replacing the confusion, only to turn back again as he takes a step forwards, causing me to step back.
Sighing, he keeps on forwards until I can't move away, my back pressed uncomfortably against the lockers, blue eyes never leaving mine.
"(Y/N), (Y/N), if you had any idea how long I've had feelings for you, you wouldn't need to ask. Do you know what you do to me?"
"W-What?" I stutter, lost for words at his sudden confession.
"I hate it, knowing you chose him. Knowing I can't have you because he has you. It tears me up, (Y/N). If only you could see that." He speaks softly, his breath fanning over my face as I become aware of his proximity, "Will you give me a chance? Just one to prove I can be as good as, or better than, Maverick?"
Speechless, I can only watch as he leans in, the overpowering scent of peppermint and aircraft grease entering my nose, his body moving ever closer to mine, his muscular torso pressing against mine even as his cool lips do. Clenching my jaw, I stiffen and put my hands on his chest, pushing at him, trying to pull away, my voice muffled by his insistent kissing, his large hands eventually coming around to pin my wrists to the lockers above my head in one, the other grasping my hip. I try to turn my head, only to have him trail kisses down my neck instead.
"Ice...stop...please, Tom....stop..." I stammer, shifting in his grasp.
A familiar yet stern voice interrupts my flailing thought process, drawing my attention to the door.
"What the HELL is going on?!" Maverick stands, seething in the doorway, his eyes burning with fury as he takes in our compromising position.
Pulling away from me, Iceman turns to the other aviator, a guilty look on his face as he finally releases me.
"I'm sorry, Mav, I-" He begins, only to be cut off by Maverick's hard tone.
"I don't want to hear it! How dare you kiss my girlfriend!" He yells, face contorted into a poisonous scowl that would make anyone quiver in fear. "How dare you touch her like that! She was asking you to stop!"
Wincing at the harshness in his words, Iceman backs away, a horrified look in his eyes as he realises the severity of the situation, glancing quickly at me.
"I'm really sorry, (Y/N), I just...I'm sorry..." He trails off, seeing Maverick's eyes narrow in disgust.
"Just get out!" The pilot spits out, raking the other up and down with a critical gaze.
Shoulders hanging slightly, Iceman shuffles to the door, sending one last apologetic glance my way as he steps out.
Making sure he has left, Maverick turns his blazing gaze on me, his lips pressed into a sharp line, the expression in the features of his face instilling a sense of fear in me.
"Pete...I didn't want to kiss him! He kissed me! I'm sorry, I won't let it happen again!" I ramble on, trying to find an excuse where none is needed; he clearly knows what happened.
Stalking over, Pete backs me into the wall again, lowering his head so only I can hear his low voice.
"I know, but I can't stand to see someone else touch you. It pisses me off." I swallow hard at his words, trying not to whimper at the sensation of his breath against my skin and his broad torso pressing against mine. "You're mine, (Y/N), and I don't like sharing."
With that, Maverick's mouth crashes into mine, his lips insistent, prying mine open so his tongue can slip in, easily winning dominance over mine. Holding my hands in his, he pins them by my head, using his hips to hold me in place as he ravishes my mouth with his. Moaning into the kiss, I almost cry out when he pulls away for breath, relishing the dark look in his eye as he drags his gaze up and down my body. Smirking at this, he drops his head to my neck, kissing and licking at the soft skin available to him, finding my pulse point with ease. Lingering there, he pulls away by a couple of millimetres to whisper the word "mine" to himself against my skin, before biting down, gently sucking on the spot as he works a hickey into the unmarked skin. Yelping in surprise, I accidentally buck my hips into his, drawing a groan out of him as he finally pulls away, releasing me from his hold.
Looking down at me, he grins mischievously, dragging a thumb over the new mark, collecting a little moisture on it, which he strokes over my swollen lips, eyeing me as I carefully lick the digit.
"Don't forget that, (Y/N). I know Iceman won't."
Turning, the pilot strides out, leaving me breathless and flustered , my uniform messy and ragged from being pressed against the wall.
"I definitely won't forget. Not now." I whisper to myself, hurrying to a mirror to check out the damage. The other pilots sure as hell won't forget either, and if there were any doubts amongst them, they won't have any after seeing the state of my neck.
"Goddamnit Pete!" I curse, quietly.
Ten minutes later, I leave the changing room, having messily tried to hide the marking on my neck, my head filled with thoughts about the last half an hour.
What the hell happened?