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

Trap.

"What the hell is a tanker doing out here?! Are we expecting a visitor?" My voice is laced with disbelief at the sight of the hulking machine, swiftly pulling our own jet away from it to stay hidden from view, though it's entirely likely they saw us on the radar.

"I don't know, but I doubt it. A plane that big can't land very easily on a carrier like the Lexington. I'll radio the tower." Hawk responds, keeping his eyes on the larger plane as we tail it, dodging around it to stay out of sight.

"A tanker? What kind?" The reply is slightly fainter than usual due to the distance between us and base, but the confusion is evident in their tone.

"It's hard to tell, but it looks like an A400, but I can't see where it comes from." I inform them, squinting through the visor of my helmet at our target, trying to catch a glimpse of the printed words lining the broad body of the aircraft.

"An Airbus? What are they doing here?" The question is directed at us, which draws an eye roll from me.

"We were hoping you'd be able to tell us." Hawk interjects, voice a little worried now at the lack of knowledge.

"We are not expecting visitors, especially not from such a large jet. Keep an eye on it whilst we send backup." With that, the speaker cuts themselves off, leaving us to our devices.

"Great." Hawk mumbles to himself, settling in for the approaching chase, checking to surroundings for the oncoming backup.

"At least they haven't got an escort." I muse to myself, slightly concerned at the lack of protection.

"Yeah, that's pretty weird." The RIO agrees, looking around with more vigour, as if expecting to be faced with enemy jets at any moment.

For minutes on end, we follow the plane around, my mind becoming more and more unsettled as the seemingly docile aircraft continues on its steady path, my grip on the joystick tightening - could this be a trap of some sort?

Seconds later, my suspicions are confirmed when a panicked call comes through the mics, Maverick's voice easily recognisable.

"Mayday, mayday! Barracuda's been hit, we need help!"

"What?! What happened?!" Hawk and I call in unison, both of our voices raised in urgency.

"We were ambushed, there's six of them! Hurry, we need help!" Merlin responds, clearly agitated.

A growl of frustration leaves my lips as I quickly think through my options, barking out an order to Hawk, who swiftly obeys, asking for permission from the tower to aid the others.

"Permission granted, go ahead."

"What about the A400?" I quickly chip in, ready to turn and leave it, but still concerned about its relevance.

"Leave it to the backup we've sent, the others need urgent help." After hearing this, I don't hesitate to wheel the jet around and head in the direction Hawk raps out, amplifying the thrust as much as possible, the pressure inside the cockpit increasing dramatically. Through our face masks, our breaths sound harsh and loud, both of us straining to keep ourselves from slouching forwards, our helmets making our heads feel heavier.

"Jesus, Quicksilver, how many times have I asked you to warn me before you do crazy turns like that?" Hawk protests, the RIO's words sounding exasperated at my antics.

"Sorry, Hawk." I apologise, yanking the jet around once more as the first dots become visible on the radar.

"Maverick, Merlin? It's Quicksilver and Hawk, where do you need us?" I confirm through the mics, waiting for the aviators to respond.