Hihihiiiiiii
I was wondering if u cud write a Maverick x pilot! reader ficcc.
The plot basically being like mav Goose and the reader r like best friends since flight school and then in Top Gun they (finally) get together and they're all lovey dovey and stuff.
N they're so filled with like a rush that they speed things up maybe get engaged but then Goose dies so then that kinda tears them apart somewhat.
And they js don't talk together after that until top gun maverick where they reunite yo teach the mission togethahhh (where the reader is like a higher ranking official maybe?) n like there's a creeping family dynamic between mav rooster n the reader. The reader is js like suuuppppeeerrr pissed with Mav at tht point so like they slowllyyyyy fall in love with eachother again??
It wud be a nice slowbrun (?) Kinda thing idk but like I wud LOVE it if u wrote thissss
Tysmmmmm <3
remind me (p.m)
Pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x Pilot!Reader Word count: 8.4k CW: Angst, few swears, allusions to smut, slow burn with a tooth-rottingly sweet ending
A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this! I've never written for Mav before, but this was so fun. I hope it's what you had in mind!
NOW
Your callsign is Wildcard.
And maybe it doesn’t make much sense anymore, because your Full Bird Captain status means you aren’t able to fly as much, and you certainly aren’t able to fly like your ass is on fire the way you used to in the good old days. But it still means something—to you, to the other pilots (younger and older) who’ve heard the stories about you, and to Maverick.
You can tell by the way he freezes for a heartbeat, the hard lump he swallows when you walk into the conference room.
‘I’m assuming I don’t need to introduce you to Captain Y/L/N,’ Cyclone drawls, gesturing vaguely at you. ‘She’ll be your mission oversight officer—what she says, goes. You report directly to her, and she reports directly to me.’
You adjust the cuffs of your flight suit, staring Maverick down. Because like hell are you going to be the one to look away first.
‘No,’ Maverick says, clearing his throat. ‘You don’t need to introduce us. We flew together years ago.’
Cyclone nods. ‘The last time you were at Top Gun,’ he recalls. ‘I’ve heard the stories, seen the photographs. Everyone in the Navy has.’
Warlock hums in agreement. ‘But the difference between the two of you is that Wildcard grew up. She learned from her mistakes and has been better off for it.’
You refrain from snorting. “Grew up,” he says, as if growing up means trading fire for caution. You know better that they live side by side within you.
Maverick, you hope, remembers the fire.
You want him to think of you as the carefree, courageous woman he fell in love with thirty-five years ago.
And you want him to feel sick to his stomach that he doesn’t get to call you his.
THEN
‘Come on, Mav!’ Goose exclaimed, shoving his best friend so hard he almost fell over. ‘She’s lost that lovin’ feeling!’
Maverick rolled his eyes, shoving Goose back twice as hard. ‘There’s no way she’s interested. Have you seen her?’
‘She flies like the plane is an extension of her body,’ Goose said, awestruck. ‘She flies like you.’
You barged through the middle of them, helmet swinging idly from your hand. ‘The two of you natter more than my grandma and her book club,’ you teased. ‘What are you talking about?’
Goose piped up. ‘Well, I was just saying that you’ve lost—’
Maverick practically jumped on his best friend, smacking a hand over his mouth. ‘—lost your focus a bit the last few days. That’s what we were saying. Everything okay, Wildcard?’
You raised a brow, tilting your helmet like a challenge. ‘My focus is on point, as usual, Maverick. Maybe it’s yours that’s slipping.’
You didn’t give him a chance to respond, just sauntered off towards your jet, as if the tarmac belonged to you.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Mav groaned. ‘She’s gonna be the death of me.’
NOW
After briefing the two of you on the mission and dropping the bomb that Bradley is flying, Cyclone and Warlock leave the two of you and an elephant in the form of your shared history to strategise.
It’s perhaps the most awkward situation Pete’s ever been in, and that’s saying something.
You flip open a manila file and begin rifling through papers that you’ve probably already read through three times. He knows you, knows you’re stalling to avoid looking at him.
But he’s looking at you.
He can’t stop.
Mostly, he’s looking at the four gold stripes on your sleeve that mean you outrank him. He’s not surprised in the slightest—you might have been a wildcard, but you knew when to rein it in. That duality was one of the things he loved most about you, and he’s not surprised to find that that love is still there.
He never really stopped loving you. Even after Goose’s death, when you grew apart, even when you blamed him for setting Bradley back, he never told you the real reason as to why he did that, for the same reason he didn’t tell Bradley. He would rather both of you hate him if it made it easier for you to go on, to grieve Nick and Carole and remember them in a good light.
‘Tomorrow, we’re briefing the pilots on the mission,’ you say, finally meeting his eye. ‘I want you to really think about what you’re going to say to them, because they’re going to be looking to you for guidance.’
He nods subtly, jaw tight, eyes softening for the briefest second. He knows exactly who you mean. Pete knows that you and Bradley stayed in touch, that you were the only one Bradley had left after he pulled his papers.
He’s glad, in a way, that the boy had you.
Even if it killed him every day to know that he couldn’t be a part of your lives anymore.
‘You don’t have to worry, Wildcard,’ he tells you honestly. ‘I’m not going to teach them my bad habits.’
You snort, the beginnings of a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Lips he’s kissed so many times, he still remembers how it felt. ‘You say that now, but wait till you get going.’
Pete grins, and you avert your eyes, like if you look at him too long, this composure you’re pretending to have will crack. ‘I don’t like that look, Maverick.’ You warn.
He chuckles, a little awestruck—and a little guilty—at how effortlessly he slips back into the old rhythm. ‘It’s the only one I got.’
THEN
‘I don’t like that look, Maverick,’ you warned, wiping the visor of your helmet with your sleeve.
He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. ‘C’mon, baby, you know it’s the only one I got.’
You laughed, a sound like all his Christmases come at one. He never got tired of hearing that laugh. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then one to the side of your mouth. You caught him before he could pull away, kissing him like you weren’t on the tarmac surrounded by other pilots, like nothing mattered except the two of you. Goose was laughing somewhere, but it was background noise, nothing more.
Suddenly, Goose appeared on your other side, throwing his arm around your shoulder. ‘I feel like a third wheel now that you two are finally together,’ he whined. ‘Can’t you go back to pretending you hate each other?’
You and Maverick shared a knowing look—he loved having conversations with you without even needing to speak.
‘Now you know how I felt with you and Carole,’ Maverick replied easily.
You laughed again, and Maverick’s heart skipped a beat or two. He pushed Goose off you, ignoring his faux-angry pleas, before spinning you around and dipping you like you were dancing, kissing you passionately.
‘MAVERICK! WILDCARD! CUT THAT SHIT OUT RIGHT NOW!’ Your captain yelled.
Maverick righted you again, both of you grinning like fools. He was always pushing his luck, even then, and he stole one last kiss before putting his helmet on.
NOW
You’re nursing a whiskey on the rocks when you hear the tinkling of piano keys from inside The Hard Deck. You know Bradley arrived earlier in the day, but you haven’t had the chance to catch up with him yet. You also know Maverick is at the bar, hence why you’re sitting outside trying to focus on the sunset like the love of your life isn’t twenty feet away.
You don’t need to wonder if hearing Bradley play the piano is a kick in the teeth for Maverick, because it is for you. You’d stayed close to baby Bradshaw—as you called him—and it was hard enough for you to listen to his nostalgic rendition of Great Balls of Fire. For Maverick, who was estranged from his godson, it must have been like swallowing rusty nails.
You close your eyes, letting the music whisk you away to simpler times—times before tragedy, before loss, when laughter came easy, and nothing hurt. Every note reminds you of Goose. Every chord reminds you of what’s missing.
Later, when the doors open and Maverick is chucked out by two young aviators, you’re close to tears, and you blink them away so he can’t see them.
He doesn’t deserve to see you vulnerable, not anymore.
He stands up slowly, brushing sand off his jeans, looking at you like he wants to say something. Your chest tightens. You know what he wants to say, and you can’t afford it. Not tonight. So before he can, you get up and take your drink inside, even though it’s suffocating and loud and a reminder of everything you’ve lost.
It takes a lot of effort, but you don’t look back.
Bradley has just finished his performance, and everyone is still clapping and cheering for him when he approaches you.
He envelops you in a big bear hug, kind of like the ones you used to get from Goose, and you swallow a lump the size of a golf ball.
‘Hey, Auntie Y/N,’ he says. ‘It’s good to see you.’
You smile, reaching up to ruffle his hair affectionately. ‘Baby Bradshaw,’ you say. ‘You okay?’
‘All good,’ he replies. ‘Curious about this mission, though. Everyone’s talking.’
You glance behind him at all the aviators currently staring at you with curious expressions. Some of them you recognise from your days instructing at Top Gun, but some are new to you.
‘I bet they are,’ you say. ‘You’ll find out more tomorrow morning. Don’t stay out too late.’
He laughs just like his dad, and it hits you right in the chest. ‘I won’t.’
THEN
‘There he is!’ You grinned, picking Bradley up and squeezing him affectionately. ‘My baby Bradshaw!’
You tickled his side, and he squealed with laughter, squirming to get out of your grip.
‘Uncle Mav!’ He yelled. ‘Save me!’
Nick and Carole watched on, enamoured by the sight of their two best friends loving their baby so much. Pete swept Bradley out of your arms and ran away, making pretend aeroplane noises.
‘Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, top of his class at the academy and hero to the nation, narrowly misses a tickle attack from enemy aircraft!’
You started chasing them across the yard, Bradley squealing and hanging onto Maverick’s shirt. The sun was warm, laughter spilling over as if it could never end. Every second was a reminder that this chaos—this family—was yours.
‘He manages to block Wildcard’s missiles with an impressive manoeuvre that puts his old man to shame!’
‘Okay!’ Carole exclaimed, giggling. ‘That’s enough, Pete! He’s just had an ice cream, you’ll make him puke!’
Mav set him down, and you ruffled his blonde hair, pulling him in for a hug.
‘Love you, little bird.’ You said, face aching from how much you were smiling.
Bradley gazed up at you, wide-eyed with love and admiration. ‘Love you, Auntie Y/N.’
NOW
Pete can’t take it anymore.
He can’t take being so close to you and not talking to you, not at least trying.
After the mission brief, he follows you through the hangar and pulls you aside into a small alcove.
You make a startled noise and yank your arm away from him, like his touch burns. It knocks the wind from him. Because there was a time when touching you was second nature to him—a time when you were in his lap more than you were out of it.
‘Wildcard,’ he says, slightly desperately. ‘Please don’t—’
You suck in a ragged breath, and he knows that you’re on the verge of tears. ‘No!’ You snap. ‘You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to ask me for anything.’
You turn to walk away, and panic rises in his chest, reminding him of how it felt the day he lost everything. He’s relived that day over and over again since it happened, sometimes just to torture himself. But it’s different now that you’re actually here, standing in front of him, looking like a helpless animal caught in a trap.
No injury has ever hurt quite like seeing the woman he’s always loved looking at him like she’s afraid to be near him.
‘Please, Y/N. Just let me explain.’
Something flickers in your face then, like you’re actually starting to consider it. But it’s gone as quick as a flash.
Reluctantly, he lets you go.
He has to lean against the wall for support and take a few deep breaths before stepping back out into the hangar.
The first person he locks eyes with when he does is Bradley, who’s standing talking to Phoenix and Bob. The look his godson gives him is much worse than the one he got from you.
With you, he can see that it’s taking a great deal of effort to go on hating him, but with Bradley? The hard set of his jaw and the hate in his eyes make it easy to forget that there was ever any love between them.
It kind of makes Pete feel like he dreamed the happy days.
THEN
‘I need you to help me with something, Bradley,’ Pete said, crouching down to get on his godson’s eye level. ‘You up for it?’
Bradley pushed his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes and gazed up at Pete expectantly. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m gonna ask your Auntie Y/N to marry me,’ he said, pulling a black, velvet ring box from the inside pocket of his jacket.
Bradley clasped his little hands together. ‘Really?’
‘Yep,’ Pete smiled. ‘And we love you so much, I know it’ll be even more special if you help me.’
‘Tell me the plan, Uncle Mav.’ Bradley said, putting his most serious face on.
‘Well, I’m gonna take her out to her favourite restaurant, you know the one at the beach?’
Bradley nodded enthusiastically. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘You’re gonna be there the whole time with your mommy and daddy, but Y/N won’t know that. You’re gonna hide. Think you can do that?’
‘Yep. I can do that.’
‘Okay, good. When we’ve eaten, I’m gonna give you a super secret signal.’ Pete told him.
‘Like a whistle?’
Pete nodded. ‘Yeah, we can do a whistle.’
Bradley whistled out a tune. ‘Like that?’
Pete copied him, and Bradley’s face lit up. ‘Perfect,’ he praised. ‘Think you can remember it?’
‘I can remember it,’ Bradley promised. ‘I remember all my multiplication tables.’
‘I knew you were the right man for the job,’ Pete ruffled his hair. ‘So once you hear the signal, your dad is gonna get behind the piano and play our song. When he’s about halfway through, you’re gonna bring me this box with the ring inside,’ Pete put the box in Bradley’s hand and closed his fingers around it. ‘Think you can do that for me? And keep it safe till then?’
Bradley’s shoulders were set with the weight of the responsibility. For a second, Pete could see the proud, strong fighter pilot his godson was going to grow into. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent the tears that desperately wanted to fall.
‘I can do it,’ Bradley said resolutely. ‘I won’t mess it up.’
Pete pulled him in for a hug. ‘I know you won’t.’
NOW
Some things haven’t changed, at least.
Mav still flies by the seat of his pants, and he’s giving you a run for your money.
You’ve got Phoenix and Bob up in the air with you—they’re an impressive duo, and you hope Maverick is seriously considering picking them to fly the mission. Of course, if he doesn’t, you can always overrule his decision. It would definitely give you a kick, that’s for sure. Hangman, on the other hand? He’s self-confident, and not in a good way. In a way that gets people killed in real-life situations.
It’s been years since you’ve flown with Maverick, but you’re still highly attuned to his thought processes; you know he’s thinking the same thing as you. In fact, you’re so confident that he’s on the same page as you that once he gets Phoenix and Bob out, the two of you don’t even have to coordinate your next move.
You bank hard to the left, pushing your jet just shy of its limits, trusting that Maverick is doing the exact opposite.
A beat.
Two.
And then…
‘There it is,’ Phoenix mutters over comms, awe creeping into her voice ‘They’re splitting him.’
Hangman doesn’t see it coming, because of course he doesn’t. He’s too focused on the kill, too focused on proving he can do this alone, and that’s exactly where he goes wrong. You’ve seen a lot of pilots fly like him, and it never ends well.
Maverick dives, fast and aggressive, dragging Hangman’s attention with him like bait on a hook.
Instead of following, you climb. Sharp. Clean. Controlled. Your jet cuts through the sky above them, disappearing from Hangman’s line of sight entirely.
‘Where’d she go?’ Bob asks.
‘Exactly where she needs to be,’ Maverick replies, voice steady—certain.
The sound of Pete so certain over the comms makes your stomach flip faster than any sudden dive in your jet.
Hangman commits because he’s got an ego the size of North Island, and for someone like him, there’s no other option. He chases Maverick, pushing harder, faster, trying to close the gap so he can win.
And that’s when you drop.
You come down out of the sun, fast and lethal, slotting in behind him like you’ve been there the whole time.
‘You’re dead, Hangman,’ you say calmly.
There’s a beat of silence over comms, then Hangman’s grating drawl: ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’
‘They didn’t even call that!’ Phoenix exclaims.
Pete chuckles, the sound going right through you. ‘Nice work, Wildcard.’
And oh, it comes so naturally to you. The splitting grin that makes your cheeks press against the inside of your helmet, the dizzy, elated feeling that’s better than any shot of hard liquor…
With every moment that passes, it’s becoming harder and harder to remember why you hate him so much.
THEN
You let Pete believe that you didn’t have a clue he was planning on proposing.
Really, he should’ve known by then that it was impossible to pull one over on a woman whose callsign was Wildcard—you’d basically written the playbook for surprise manoeuvres.
But you loved him, and you supposed just this once you could pretend. The one part that you hadn’t been expecting was the Bradshaw family, which in reality should’ve been the one part that you’d seen coming. When Goose broke out into song—your's and Mav's song, your favourite—with Carole beside him on the piano bench, your heart had swelled three sizes in your chest.
And when Baby Bradshaw appeared dressed in a little Hawaiian shirt just like his dad with a cheeky grin on his face and a ring box in his chubby fist, you’d almost passed out from happiness. Until that moment, you hadn’t known it was possible to be so overcome with joy that you lost all control of your basic brain functions, but there you were: too stunned to even speak or wipe away the tears that were streaming down your face.
Bradley handed you the box, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Pete high-fived him before kneeling on the ground beside him, in front of you. ‘You did good, kid,’ he smiled.
‘Thanks,’ Bradley beamed. ‘Auntie Y/N, Uncle Mav has something he wants to ask you.’
You laughed disbelievingly. ‘He does?’
Bradley put his arms around your neck, pulling you down so he could whisper in your ear: ‘Will you marry him?’
You sniffled, pressing a kiss to Bradley’s cheek before kneeling in front of the love of your life. Pete’s eyes twinkled with a mix of tears, admiration, and a love so strong it was sometimes hard to acknowledge. The corner of his mouth tugged upward, like he was trying and failing to remain serious. You threw your arms around him, almost knocking him over with the force of your hug.
‘Yes,’ you exclaimed. ‘A thousand times over, yes!’
The entire restaurant had erupted into cheers, but Carole, Goose and Bradley were by far the loudest.
They always were.
You peppered kisses all over Pete’s face, until he put both hands on either side of your face and encaptured your lips in a much steadier, much more passionate kiss. The whole room melted away until it was just the two of you.
At least until Bradley made himself known.
‘Yuck!’ He shrieked, sending everyone into fits of giggles.
Carole and Goose appeared as you and Mav stood. They engulfed you in a big group hug, to which Bradley inserted himself by throwing his arms around your’s and Pete’s legs.
‘The ring!’ Carole shrieked. ‘You haven’t put the ring on her, Pete. For God’s sake—’
Bradley still had the box. Tentatively, he opened it and took out the glistening diamond engagement ring. Truthfully, it was the most beautiful piece of jewellery you’d ever seen in your life, and you couldn’t believe it was yours, that this was actually happening. Yes, you’d seen it coming, but nothing could’ve prepared you for how it was going to feel. Bradley—who seemed to be taking his role in all this very seriously—handed the ring to Pete.
He flew multi-million dollar fighter jets for a living in a way that most other pilots wouldn’t even dare—all except for you. He’d seen real combat, been injured, lost people he cared about. Through it all, he’d been virtually unshakable.
But when he slipped that ring on your finger, his hands were trembling.
NOW
The Dagger Squad aren’t a team; that much is obvious.
Pete is used to admirals breathing down his neck about this kind of thing, but you?
He needs to do do something, and fast. Hence the impressively complicated game of dogfight football he’s organised for them all. He’s staring at the sheen of sweat atop your sunkissed skin, glistening in the afternoon light. When you begin picking players for your team (he’s heading up one side, you the other) he can’t help but glance at the way your abs tense as you move, and the impressive length of the legs he loves so much. He remembers long nights with you wrapped around him as he—
‘Captain Mitchell!’ You bark, brows raised in a way that makes him think you know where his head was at. ‘You ready?’
Smiling sheepishly, Pete glances at who you’ve left him with: Halo, Omaha, Harvard, Yale, Fritz.
And Hangman.
Thanks to his shameless staring, he’s left with no time to strategise with his team before Hondo blows the whistle, signifying the start of the game.
The ball hits the sand, and all hell breaks loose. Immediately, it’s chaos. Pete barely has time to register who’s on his team before Hangman snatches up the ball and starts running down the beach with it. There’s shouting, laughter, and sand flying everywhere.
And then there’s you.
You move like you used to fly, still fast and impossible to predict. It throws him off more than anything else, and for a second, he forgets this is a game.
He goes for a tackle and knows instantly that it’s the wrong angle and the wrong timing. Someone slams into him from the side, knocking him into the sand with so much force he’s honestly a little winded. For a second, as he lies on his back, all he sees is sky, but then a shadow falls over him. Bradley is standing over him, hand outstretched.
‘You good?’ He asks, easy and casual, like there’s no history between them.
For a second, Pete hesitates, but then he takes Bradley’s hand, who hauls him up without a second thought. Before Pete can say thank you, Bradley’s already turning back towards the game like it’s nothing.
But it’s far from nothing.
It’s the first time in years his kid has reached for him, and it knocks all the wind from Pete as if he’s been knocked on his ass again.
By the time he looks up again, you’ve got the ball.
You dodge past one of the younger pilots, laughing as they miss you completely, and Pete feels something dangerous spark in his chest.
God, he remembers this. The chase. The thrill.
‘Not a chance, Wildcard!’ he calls, already moving.
You glance over your shoulder, grin sharp and familiar.
‘You’re getting slow in your old age, Maverick!’
That does it.
He knows he shouldn’t take the bait, not in front of all these people—not in front of Bradley. But Pete’s never been one for sticking to the rules, anyway. He pushes harder, closing the distance, sand kicking up behind him as he lunges, and instead of going for the ball, he goes for you.
He catches you around the waist, momentum carrying both of you forward towards the line where sand meets ocean. Before he can think better of it, he lifts you clean off your feet and dumps you straight into the water.
There’s a split second of silence before chaos ensues.
Laughter erupts up and down the beach, someone whoops, and Phoenix is yelling something about foul play.
But Pete doesn’t hear any of it, because you’re standing there dripping wet, staring at him, and for a second, you look exactly like you used to. Your eyes are bright, and there’s an air around you like you’re utterly untouchable. Too late, he realises that his hands are still at your waist. You glance down at where his skin is touching yours, and your breath catches.
The whole thing is entirely too familiar and easy.
The squad’s laughter fades into the background, and Pete realises just how fragile the moment really is. He shifts his hand to your back to help you stay upright, because your feet have started sinking into the soft sand. The sudden change seems to jolt you back into reality, and just like that, the moment’s gone.
THEN
It was one of those days that got away from you like a ball of yarn rolling across the floor.
A rare day off for you, Goose and Maverick, Carole had suggested taking Bradley to the beach for a picnic and a swim.
You’d spent the day in and out of the water, playing cricket and catch with Bradley, helping him build sandcastles and collecting different shells. After lunch, Carole and Goose had taken Bradley for a walk to get ice cream, leaving you and your fiancé to your own devices for a little while.
Pete led you down to the water, his hand wrapped protectively around your waist. He’d always been the same: if you were near, he wanted to be touching you in some way, especially if there were other guys around.
Just before you reached the water, Pete swept you off your feet without warning and threw you over his shoulder, his hand coming to rest at the swell of your ass.
‘PETE MITCHELL, PUT ME DOWN!’ You squealed.
But both of you knew that you didn’t really want him to put you down, and it was just for show. He waded out a little way before dumping you rather unceremoniously into the ocean, but not before you could hook your legs around his and drag him down with you. When you came up for air, the two of you were coughing and sputtering through your laughter.
He was so handsome, you still couldn’t believe that you were going to be marrying him in a few months. You looped your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist beneath the water, capturing his lips in a kiss. As the waves lapped gently around you, he slid his hands beneath your bikini, cupping and squeezing your ass in a way that made you almost feral.
‘Not here,’ you panted against his lips.
In response, he dragged your bottom lip through his teeth and plunged his tongue into your mouth. It was passionate and salty and entirely too much for the beach, but neither of you wanted to stop.
‘Come on, Wildcard,’ he mumbled, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. ‘Remind me how you got that callsign.’
That daring tone was all the encouragement you needed to plunge your hand down the front of his swim shorts. He gasped against the sensitive skin of your neck, and you smirked, pleased to know that you could still surprise him.
‘HEY, LOVEBIRDS!’ Goose yelled from the shore. ‘GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF EACH OTHER’S PANTS AND COME AND GET YOUR ICE CREAM! THERE’S KIDS HERE, YOU KNOW?!’
NOW
You’re on edge from the day, unable to stop thinking about Phoenix and Bob laid up in the infirmary after having to eject. By now, you should know better than to get attached to people in the Navy, but it’s never been your strong suit. You’ve always seen pilots for what they are: people—people with families and friends and lives outside of the cockpit.
It means that days like this hit you harder than other captains, and it’s always been a great comfort to you that Pete is the same. You shouldn’t be listening to his conversation with Bradley from outside the door, but how could you not?
‘Easy for you to say,’ Bradley spat. ‘No kids, no family. No one to mourn you when you burn in.’
You flinch. You’ve never heard Bradley speak to anyone that way before, not even in the thick of his grief with both of his parents. Your heart aches for Pete despite what he’s done, because Bradley’s right.
He doesn’t have any of those things anymore.
But you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t mourn him when he died. The thought of it had bile rising up in your throat.
‘Go home,’ Pete says quietly. ‘Get some sleep.’
You hear footsteps heading towards the door you’re currently hiding behind, and you suck in a sharp breath, expecting him to catch you eavesdropping.
But then: ‘WHY DID YOU PULL MY PAPERS AT THE ACADEMY?’ Bradley shouts, making you jump. ‘WHY DID YOU STAND IN MY WAY?!’
This whole day is reminding your body of past traumas you’ve tried your hardest to forget. You begin to tremble with a mix of adrenaline, anger and the sudden urge to cry and scream.
‘You weren’t ready.’ Pete utters.
‘Ready for what? Ready to fly like you?’ Bradley demands.
‘Ready to forget the book!’ Pete snaps. Trust your instincts. Don’t think. Just do. You think up there, you’re dead. Believe me.’
Bradley’s next words hit you like a string of nasty suckerpunches.
‘My dad believed in you. I’m not gonna make the same mistake.’
Bradley storms out of the room, anger rolling off him in waves. He’s in such a hurry to get away from Pete that he doesn’t see you with your back pressed up against the wall. Before you can stop yourself, you’re walking into the room.
Pete’s head snaps up when he sees you enter, face grief-stricken.
‘Tell me the truth,’ you say, voice strangled. ‘Not the bullshit version.’
Pete’s shoulders sag. ‘I am telling the truth. He wasn’t ready.’
You shake your head. ‘I know you, Mav. I know you’re lying. Why did you really do it?’
He runs his hands through his dark hair, and you’re taken aback by how weary he seems, like he’s been carrying the weight of this for so long he doesn’t even know how to go about setting it down.
‘Carole didn’t want him to fly,’ Pete croaks. ‘She made me promise before she died that I wouldn’t let him.’
Your vision fades almost entirely to black, and you have to sit down on one of the benches so you don’t collapse.
‘What?’ You breathe.
‘After what happened to Goose, she didn’t want him to join the Navy, Y/N. I promised.’
‘Y-you have to tell Bradley,’ you stammer, head in your hands. ‘He has to know, Mav.’
Pete shakes his head, jaw set in a hard line. ‘He’ll always resent me for what I did. Why should he resent her, too?’
Your head is spinning with this new information. Why didn’t you guess that it was something like this? It's sickening, really, to know that all this time you’ve spent hating him has been for nothing. He didn’t betray Bradley or become someone you didn’t recognise. He’s been the man you loved all along—sacrificing himself and the love of his family to protect his godson and his memories of his mother.
The world seems slightly off-kilter now.
Pete crouches in front of you, and you manage to look into his eyes. You’re met with such anguish that you can’t help but reach out and put your hands on either side of his face.
‘He doesn’t need to hate you, Mav. If you tell him, he’ll—’
‘I was trying to be the father he lost,’ he says, resting his head on your hand. ‘I just wish I’d handled it better.’
‘It’s not too late,’ you whisper.
‘For Bradley and me,’ he says quietly. ‘Or for us?’
Before you can stammer out an answer, Pete’s phone starts ringing. He fumbles for it in his pocket, answering it just before it cuts off. Judging by the way his mouth falls open with pure shock and horror, it can’t be good.
‘What’s happened?’ You ask, dread filling your heart.
‘It’s Iceman,’ Pete gasps. ‘He’s gone.’
THEN
When Goose died, the world didn’t end all at once.
It unravelled bit by bit.
Carole stopped laughing. The house got quieter, like even the walls were holding their breath. Bradley kept asking when his dad was coming home, and no one ever had an answer that made sense. Pete stayed anyway, even when staying felt harder than running away and never looking back.
He stayed through the silence, through the grief, through the way everything felt just slightly off.
Like the world had tilted and never quite righted itself again.
He thought you would too, but he was wrong.
‘I just can’t do this anymore,’ you said, voice breaking.
Pete went still. He tasted blood before he even realised he’d bitten the inside of his cheek. ‘Of course it’s not the same,’ he managed. ‘But calling off the wedding-’
‘I’m not just calling off the wedding,’ your breath stuttered, lips trembling. ‘I’m calling off us. The whole fucking thing, Mav. I can’t-’ You shook your head. ‘I can’t do it anymore.’
The words didn’t land all at once. They sank in slow, heavy.
‘Why?’ he asked, hating how small his voice sounded.
You looked at him like it was obvious. Like it was written all over him.
‘Because every time I look at you,’ you said, quieter now. ‘I see everything we lost.’
His stomach clenched painfully, like he’d been stabbed. He took a step forward, reaching for you on instinct, because that’s what he’d always done. After all, you’d always been there.
But you pulled back.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, like there was still something he could fix.
‘Transfer’s already in,’ you muttered. ‘New squad. New base. Clean slate.’
Clean slate. Like he’s something that needs to be erased.
‘You can’t just leave.’
‘I can’t stay,’ you whispered.
NOW
The next forty-eight hours pass in a blur of tension, arguments, and impossible expectations.
Maverick flies the course despite being grounded.
And naturally, he proves them all wrong.
The mission gets moved up, and it feels almost like an insult to Iceman’s memory. As if the grieving process isn’t already hard enough. One silver lining, you suppose, is that Pete’s now flying the mission. Cyclone has finally seen the fucking light after you spent hours convincing him that there’s only one way this mission can be flown and survived.
Any moment now, they’re going to make Pete choose the pilots who are going to be flying the mission with him. And maybe you’re pushing your luck, trying to talk to him before that in the middle of all the commotion, but you’ve always been good at that. Pushing your luck used to be what you were known for.
You find him at the back of the carrier and grab his hand before you can second-guess yourself, pulling him into a narrow supply closet.
‘What—’
‘Listen to me,’ you cut in, hands braced against his shoulders. ‘You need to choose Bradley.’
He stills.
‘You have to take your own advice for once,’ you press. ‘Don’t think. Just do.’
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. ‘Wildcard—’
‘Not finished,’ you snap, and his mouth shuts.
‘If you want any chance of fixing this with him, you have to do this. It shows him you trust him. That you believe in him,’ your voice softens, just slightly. ‘That you were wrong. Without having to mention your promise to Carole.’
Pete studies you, something shifting behind his eyes as he pieces it together. You hold his gaze. ‘Just do it, Mav. Please.’
Eventually, he nods. ‘Okay.’
Relief hits you harder than you expect. ‘Okay.’
Just as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist.
‘When I get back, we should talk. About us.’
You swallow, nerves creeping in before you can stop them.
The last few weeks have dragged up things you’d spent years trying to bury. What it felt like to walk away from Pete, even when you still loved him; The anger that came later, sharp and blinding, when you found out what he’d done to Bradley.
For a long time, the guilt had been the hardest part. Leaving him after Goose had felt like betraying him, even if you’d needed it just to survive.
But the anger? The anger had been easier. Easier to hold onto and to hide behind. Easier than admitting that none of your feelings had ever really gone away.
You meet his eye and nod. ‘Yeah. We can talk.’
Something settles over him, then. A grim determination to get back to you, just so you can have that conversation.
‘Good luck, Maverick,’ you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘Come home safe. And bring our baby bird back with you.’
The flight deck is too quiet.
You’ve been here before countless times, waiting, hoping and praying, only for things to fall apart anyway. It might be part of the job, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
Wringing your hands in front of you, you pace the flight deck, ignoring the other pilots' stares. You’re not supposed to show emotion like this. It’s highly unprofessional, and you know it’s revealing a little too much about your personal life, but you can’t help it. You’d have to be an emotionless robot to stand still right now.
You walked out of the comms room just as Hangman took off because you couldn’t take it anymore. Listening to a play-by-play of the most dangerous situation Pete and Bradley had ever been in was a bit too much for your already frayed nerves.
So you’re outside on the flight deck, waiting. Waiting to see that F/16 Tomcat soaring across the horizon like a cut scene from your heyday, except this time it’s Goose’s son in the backseat and not Goose himself.
Payback and Fanboy are the first to come back, then Phoenix and Bob. Everyone on the carrier surges forward to greet them with congratulatory cheers, but you can’t bring yourself to move from the position you’re in. You have the perfect view of the skies from here, and you’re scared that if you look away for even a second, you’ll miss them. It’s an agonisingly long wait. You’re beginning to give up all hope when you hear the trundling of a broken engine approaching the packed carrier. Nobody is around to catch you when your knees buckle, and you fall to the ground, great sobs of relief wracking through your exhausted body. The ground crew throw out a net to catch them because they’ve lost a lot of their landing gear. You’re less surprised than you should be that they made it, because you’ve seen what Pete can do in the sky under pressure. Especially this time, since Bradley was involved. You can imagine that his fatherly instincts took hold and made him even more formidable than usual.
It takes a whole lot of effort to drag yourself to your feet, but when the cockpit lifts, and you see them start to climb out, you break into a run—from zero to a hundred in two seconds flat. You push through the crowd, heart in your throat, but there are too many people, too many bodies, too much noise. It feels like you’re drowning in it.
‘Move!’ Phoenix’s voice cuts through the chaos like a whip.
Hands grab at shoulders, shoving people aside, and then she’s there, fingers wrapping around yours, steady and sure as she pulls you forward.
You don’t miss the fire in her eyes. It mirrors your own. For a second, it almost feels like looking at a younger version of yourself.
She doesn’t let go until you’re at the centre, the aircraft looming just ahead.
‘Thank you, Phoenix,’ you breathe.
‘Anytime, Captain.’
You glance past her and catch sight of Pete and Bradley, something shifting between them that feels too fragile to interrupt.
You look back at her. ‘You flew well out there,’ you say, meaning it ‘Damn well. You’re an asset to the Navy.’
Phoenix straightens a little at that, pride flickering across her face.
‘That means a lot coming from you, ma’am.’
You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. ‘Don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel ancient.’
She hesitates.
You tilt your head, something softer slipping through. ‘Call me Wildcard.’
That throws her. For a second, she just stares, like she’s been handed something she doesn’t quite know how to hold. Then she nods, a little awed.
‘Thank you… Wildcard.’
You shake her hand and duck past her to where Pete and Bradley are locked into an extremely tight embrace. It’s not something you ever expected to see again, and you choke up again at the sight.
Both of them turn to look at you. They’re covered in soot and sweat and blood, and even though you know they’ve just been through hell, they’re smiling like they’ve won the lottery.
You suppose that in the Navy, coming home to the people you care about is the closest you’ll ever get to that feeling.
Bradley launches at you first, sweeping you up into a big hug.
‘You did so well, I’m so proud,’ you tell him, tears sliding down your cheeks. ‘Your dad would be so proud of you too, baby Bradshaw.’
He chuckles, setting you back down on the tarmac. ‘Am I ever gonna lose that nickname?’
You glance at Pete, who somehow looks younger than he did before he left, like getting Bradley back has taken ten years off him. He smiles at you knowingly as you shake your head.
‘Not a chance.’
Bradley huffs a laugh and ruffles your hair, just like Goose used to. ‘I think you two have some things to talk about,’ he says.
‘Yeah,’ you agree, glancing at Mav bashfully. ‘I think we do.’
‘Catch up with you later?’ Bradley asks.
‘Yeah,’ you smile.
He’s pulled into a conversation with Hangman, who has definitely gone up in your estimations. His rivalry with Bradley reminds you of Mav and Iceman, and those familiar pangs of grief strike you yet again.
Pete starts to speak, but you cut him off with an apology.
‘I’m sorry for all of it,’ you say. ‘For leaving you when you needed me, for not trusting your instincts about Bradley. I should’ve known you wouldn’t hold him back for no reason. But I’ve been so lost in my grief for so many years, I didn’t realise there was another option. I didn’t know I could be happy with you and miss him at the same time.’
Pete quickly wipes away the tears that are spilling down his cheeks and puts his hand on the back of your head.
‘It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t need to apologise for doing what you needed to do to survive.’ He tells you sincerely.
‘But we’ve lost so much time, Pete. Years we could’ve spent together, we spent hating each other.’
‘I never hated you, Wildcard.’
This makes you feel even worse, and your face crumples with more tears.
‘Hey,’ Pete softens, wrapping you in his arms. ‘It’s okay. We’ve still got time, Y/N. All the time in the world.’
‘You’d really wanna try again?’ You ask hopefully. ‘After everything?’
He looks at you like you’re dense for not seeing it. ‘I love you. I never stopped, and I never will. I was just waiting for you to quit fooling around and pretending we’re not made for each other.’
You laugh. ‘Is that so?’ You ask, leaning in.
‘Yep,’ he murmurs against your lips.
You don’t care that there are hundreds of people watching. You let him kiss you like there’s nobody else around, the way you used to when you were young. It’s reckless and all-consuming. It’s everything it was back then and more, somehow even sweeter after years of quiet longing and missed chances. His arms snake around your waist as he lifts you clean off your feet, like he’s done a hundred times before, deepening the kiss until you forget where you are entirely. Your heart soars as everyone starts cheering again, the sound swelling around you, this time for you and Pete.
When he sets you back down, you pull away reluctantly, breathless, your hands lingering against his chest like you’re not quite ready to let go.
Bradley appears then, laughing as he throws his arms around both of you, nearly knocking you off balance.
‘Reminds me of when I was a kid,’ he says, a little softer now. ‘When you two were kissing all the time.’
You both laugh, the sound lighter than it’s been in years. ‘Can’t believe you remember,’ you mumble, glancing at him.
‘How could I forget?’
And that’s just it, really.
You’ve been family all along. Even when loss and heartbreak tore you apart and scattered you to opposite ends of the country, it never changed what was there underneath it all.
You just needed reminding.
THEN
‘If anything ever happens to me—’
‘Nick, shut up!’ Carole cried. ‘I hate when you talk like this.’
Goose took both of his wife’s hands and squeezed them reassuringly. ‘I know, baby, but just hear me out, okay?’
Reluctantly, Carole nodded, eyes wide with fear as if the hypothetical worst-case scenario was already happening.
‘If anything ever happens to either of us,’ Goose repeated. ‘Pete and Y/N would take care of Bradley. Don’t you think that makes us luckier than most?’
Though she didn’t like the thought, it was comforting to know that her baby would always be taken care of by people who loved him.
‘Bradley lucked out in the parent department,’ Carole agreed. ‘He’s got two sets.’
Goose smiled. ‘Exactly.’
Further down the beach, you and Pete were tossing a ball back and forth with Bradley, listening to him prattle on about an assembly he’d had earlier in the week where all the kids had to share what they wanted to be when they grew up.
‘And Colson wants to be a rockstar,’ Bradley said, turning his nose up like this was a particularly disgusting profession.
You and Pete shared a look. ‘And what did you say, Bradley?’
His back straightened, a look of pride on his face as he told you: ‘I said I want to be a fighter pilot, just like dad, Uncle Mav and Auntie Y/N.’
‘If your mom lets you,’ Pete said, smiling knowingly.
‘I’ll have you guys protecting me,’ Bradley said matter-of-factly.
‘That’s right, buddy,’ you agreed, catching the ball as he threw it. ‘You’ll always have us. No matter what.’
NOW
Pete and Bradley watch from the patio of The Hard Deck as you and Phoenix toss a netball back and forth. Since The Daggers are now permanently stationed in Miramar, the two of you are trying to get a female team together to play with at the weekends. It takes Pete back to the old days, when you used to put him and Goose to shame.
‘Let me see it again,’ Bradley asks, setting his beer down on the table.
Pete rolls his eyes. ‘I just showed you.’
Bradley says nothing, just gestures impatiently. With a sigh (that his heart isn’t really in) Pete hands the ring box over.
‘It’s perfect,’ Bradley grins. ‘Better than the original.’
‘I was gonna ask—’
‘If I’ll help?’
‘Yeah, actually.’
‘Might be a bit weird if I bring the ring out this time,’ Bradley states, grinning lopsidedly. ‘Maybe I can play your guys’ favourite song, like my dad did all those years ago.’
Pete’s heart constricts, and he finds himself glancing at you again. He’s a lot less nervous about asking you to marry him this time around, but he’s determined to make it even more special than his first attempt.
‘Good idea,’ Pete muses. ‘You know it?’
‘Course,’ Bradley shrugs. ‘She used to make me play it for her all the time. It’s her favourite.’
Pete blinks. ‘Still? After all this time?’
Bradley threw a sidelong glance at him. ‘You’re an idiot, you know that?’
‘Why?’
‘She never stopped loving you. Even when she really wanted to, she couldn’t.’
Pete didn’t know how to hold this information. It seemed too fragile for his careless hands.
‘I never stopped loving her, either.’
Bradley huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I know.’Out on the sand, you catch the ball mid-air and spin, laughing as Phoenix tries and fails to steal it from you. The sound carries on the breeze, easy and bright, and Pete feels something in his chest settle for the first time in a long time.
He closes the ring box carefully, like it’s something precious.
This time, he’s not rushing.
This time, he’s going to get it right.
