a world in which Mav stayed for just one more game.
@topgun40fest day seven: AUs
The sting of the sunburn just settling in across Mav's skin is tugging at his attention as the fabric of his t-shirt hides it away. There's sand in his hair, sand in his boots- sand everywhere. the perfect accessory for a first date. Jesus, how could he be so stupid- and to top it all off, he's late, too.
"Mav, Mav, come on, man-" the dull sound of Goose's footfalls, muffled by the sand, punctuates the words, and Goose half-jogs to a stop behind him. "Just one more game, that evens it up. Come on, we can take these guys."
If he doesn't get the hell out of here, now, he supposes he can just kiss the whole thing goodbye. As it stands, there's no time to even make himself presentable. Unless she has the good graces to look the other way the entire time, or maybe to let him use her shower to rinse some of the sand and sweat away- this is all he has to work with.
Mav steels himself for yet another chance to be the one in the wrong (like he's capable of anything else, like he ever does anything differently), and turns to face him, jaw set. "No, no, I'm-"
"No, we can, we got it!" Of course, leave it to Goose to think the problem is Mav's fear of having the volleyball court wiped with his ass. Quite to the contrary; but the kindness of the sentiment eats at him all the same.
Biting down on the words so hard he thinks he tastes their blood when they come out, he hides his eyes away behind his sunglasses and says, "I got some things I gotta take care of."
The disappointment is painfully palpable.
"Take care of?" Goose asks, and Mav turns away to put on his jacket, mostly because he can't stand to look Goose in the eye and tell him this. "C'mon, just one more game, please? For me?"
The sensation of the sun-warmed leather sliding across his reddened skin is like a rake over the coals, and Mav gates a hiss behind his teeth, frozen in mid-motion for a second too long. If he goes now, he might make it. Not on time, but- maybe just not-late enough. Fashionably late, maybe. That's a thing people say, right? He could be that. And he'll be covered in dirt and he'll feel like shit and he'll be late, the one thing she'd told him not to be- but he'll be there.
The longer he thinks about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. If Goose even knew what he was planning to do tonight, he'd tell him that this is a crazy idea. Blowing her off is a terrible move, too; maybe the worst one. But it's a rock and a hard place, and the fabric of his shirt is burning against his skin, and he's uncomfortably tense, and his stomach does an unwelcome flip at the thought of heading straight from overwarm-beach-volleyball to intimate-dinner-at-the-table.
And, well- hell. And Goose is looking at him like, if he says no, he may as well run over a whole family of baby ducks on the way there. With a groan, he tips his head back, letting the singular jacket-arm that he's managed to pull on so far slide back off of sweat-slick skin, turning back to face Goose square-on.
"Alright, alright," he concedes, fingertips reaching for the hem of the t-shirt once more, and the image of the beautiful blonde from the classroom disappearing like a ghost from his mind's eye as the realization of what he must do settles in, "you got me. One more game."
He sees Charlie's cold stare in the hallways the next morning, feels the frigid anger in her scathing review of his performance, and thinks to himself that maybe this is a decision he'll regret forever. It isn't, though.
No, the decision that he knows he'll regret forever comes only a few days later, and he knows that is the moment he'll never forget, no matter how hard he tries. And he's standing in their shared housing (the housing that they used to share, used to, used to, used to-) with his back pressed to the door and silent sobs wracking his shoulders, the last of a life too precious and a presence too good to be ripped away held tight in a shoe-box grasped by his own shaking hands, when he realizes it. Fully, completely.
One more game might just be the only thing from his time at Top Gun that he won't regret forever.
