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specialbrewbutterbeer · 2 years

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Unorthodox (Pt. 1). (Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Kazansky!Reader)(+ a bit of Ice and Mav)

Word Count: 6760

TW: Mentions of throat cancer and death (no one dies in this, it's broadly fluff), alcohol consumption, swearing, implied marriage of convenience (See AN)

AN: I know this wasn't requested- and you're all still waiting on Recall pt2 but I'm just trying to perfect that before I post it, but meanwhile have a Bob fic! There was a gap in the market for it so I went for it since I had the inspo. I also decided to lean into the IceMav stuff in the background of this fic- Implying a marriage of convenience between Ice and Sarah- though I like to think he's just bi and it's a bit more than that, a person can love two people- similarly I didn't want to get rid of Mav and Penny's relationship. It's basically up to you what you think their relationship is. I also decided to whack some music in that I totally didn't steal from the 'sky dancing 🤘' playlist on Spotify :)

Enjoy! (Requests are open, I'm slowly working through them, and feedback and replies are really needed! I wanna know what you guys think of what I write!)

REQUESTS (OPEN)

MASTERLIST

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"Hey Papa-" (Y/n) spoke with a smile on her face, dropping her handbag off of her shoulder and onto the floor in the hall. She kicked off her sandals and approached her father, who had waited and watched her come inside from the door of her study. She was always glad to see him.

"Baby girl-" He croaked and held out an arm, into the crook of which she gladly tucked herself before she wrapped her father in her own arms. She'd always been a Daddy's girl, he'd probably only ever been really mad at her once, and to be fair- she was glad he had been and she knew he'd been right about it.

She walked with him into his study, she could feel how thin he was these days, and the fact that he'd spoken any words to her was a miracle - though no matter how much it hurt, he always tried to speak to his children.

(Y/n) Kazansky was the eldest of her siblings, and was a carbon copy of her Dad - cocky and sure at times but broadly responsible, intelligent, a quick and critical thinker, good at putting up the barricades when she needed to work, pretending like she was cold- but exactly like her father, she melted into a warm, squishy and soft person the remainder of the time. Especially for family and friends.

She had gone away to college across the country when she was 18, but despite being excited about it, ended up hating everything about it. She couldn't put her finger on what it was but she just didn't enjoy a second of it, her only solace was coming home on break.

To her total surprise, her Dad had sat her down when she'd come home at the end of her first year and told her to drop out. She had been the nost scared of telling him that she was miserable at college- but he'd seen it. He knew people, his own daughter especially, well; she had been so clearly not herself and was getting nothing positive from her experience that he couldn't bare it anymore. So she did, she came home and sobbed when she walked back in the front door with all her stuff. She felt like a failure, now she was a college drop out- and again it was her Dad who fixed everything for her, told her that life wasn't worth living she didn't love what she did everyday, if her work was a burden then she'd be torturing herself, and they were privileged enough that she didn't have to do that.

So she found a job she actually enjoyed and worked hard at it, with all the same drive that had made her Dad so successful. Now she was head of her team and most importantly, happy.

She never regretted staying living at home. She was in her late twenties now, but the house was big enough that it had never felt cramped with them all staying. She especially didn't now that the famous Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky was sick. He'd been sick before, on and off. The throat cancer started as treatable, and just came back every couple years more and more aggressively.

Being at home meant spending as much time as she could making memories with her Dad, helping look after her younger siblings whilst their Mom took their Dad to hospital appointments, and making sure that her siblings would be able to remember their Dad as well and as fondly as she would. Now they knew where it was all heading.

(Y/n) sat down across from her Dad as he lowered himself into his chair and coughed.

"How you feeling Papa?" She asked, leaning her head on her hands on the desk and looking up at him adoringly like she had done since she was a kid.

He just nodded and smiled and she gave him a look of 'I know you're not telling me the truth'. He laughed, as much as he could laugh, and typed on his computer monitor.

'I'm feeling fine. Don't worry about me, Sweetheart.'

"You say that like it's easy Papa." She read and looked back to him.

'What about you?' He typed, moving swiftly off of the topic of himself because he justifiably didn't enjoy it.

"I'm alright." She smiled. Normally she'd go into plenty of detail but today she just didn't feel like it.

'and work?' He typed again.

"Work's fine. My boss is putting me up for an industry award next month." She nodded and smiled softly as he Father broke into a much bigger smile.

'I'm proud of you, Baby girl.' He once again typed out.

"I know Papa. You never let me forget it for one second." She smiled and her Dad leant forward just a little and stroked her hair softly. She'd never really be grown up in his eyes.

After a while, her Father looked at the clock.

'Your brother needs help with his homework. Can you help him out?' Ice typed out.

"Trying to get rid of me?" She laughed.

'It's work stuff' He typed and smiled. She knew him too well.

"You'll never give it a rest, will you Papa?" He shook his head. Still smiling.

'Love it nearly as much as I love you, Sweetheart.'

"No use buttering me up now, I'll still get you back for making me help with Math." She laughed and stood. She leant down and kissed her Dad's cheek before heading out to find her brother. "Love you too Papa."

After quite a long argument with her brother about algebraic equations and how he didn't wanna do them- (Y/n) decided to give up. She didn't often give up, but her brother was stubborn and would rather text his girlfriend than study. To be fair, he was usually better at studying but considering the circumstances in the family, which (y/n) knew he wasn't coping great with, she just cut him some slack.

She wandered out through the house, a little aimlessly, looking for her Mom to ask if she needed any help with cooking dinner or anything else. She heard the study door open, and peeked around the corner.

"Pete?" She asked, watching him emerge from the doorway and rushing to him.

He looked around and saw her, a smile growing on his face.

"(Y/n)" He smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm good- What about you? Papa, you never told me Uncle Pete was in town?" She spoke, looking to her Dad who was stood in the doorway. He gave a look of 'really? You're a sap'.

"Well, here I am." He smiled and held his arms open for a hug which she gladly indulged in. "I'm good kid, just came to talk to your old man."

"Oh, you're work stuff?" She put 'work stuff ' in air quotes and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah - I'm back at Top Gun, if you can believe that." Mav spoke with a gentle smile and a sigh.

"Really?" She was slightly taken aback but Mav nodded. "Wow- I wouldn't have guessed that." She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"It's where I'm headed now, if your Dad's done with me?" Mav grinned and looked back at Ice.

"Show him the door" Her Dad spoke croakily, in as much of a faux menacing tone as he could manage, and winked at his daughter. He still had a stupid fatherly sense of humour.

The two men hugged a lingering goodbye and Kazansky retreated, with a nonchalant wave, to his desk, watching the pair through the door with a smile. She'll be looked after even without him there. She'll always have a Dad, even if her Papa ain't there. He was glad about that.

(Y/n) hooked her arm through that of the man she had always known as family, who was her Godfather in fact, and they started toward the door. He'd always been there, at her Dad's side. He was a constant presence in the house, if not at the table for dinner and sat in her Dad's office, in the garden chasing (y/n) and her siblings with a garden hose (and her Dad) when they were little, crashing in their spare room and appearing in the morning for breakfast like the drifter he sometimes was, seeming to swap exclusively between the Bradshaw's and them, then it was hearing his voice on the phone drifting out through the house as her Dad put him on speaker and cooked for his kids or attempted to put shoes on his youngest who didn't want to cooperate (Ice would put the kid on the phone to Mav, then somehow he'd always convince them to do as their Dad asked), the pictures in scrapbooks, the pictures on the wall- their Top Gun class picture, his and her Dad's photo on the deck after their first flight together on Ice's desk next to that years Christmas picture, and ones of his kids and wife.

"How you doing? With your Dad?" Mav asked, looking down at the young woman.

"Oh- You know, looking after Mom, preparing for everything." She nodded.

"You know you can call me anytime if you need anything." He spoke sincerely.

"I know Pete." She nodded and patted his arm with a content smile. They were quiet for a moment. "You're an instructor again I guess?"

"Uh- yeah." Mav nodded.

"I'm told that went well the last time?" She teased with a laugh.

"Very." He grinned.

"You'll be sprinkling some unorthodox methods in your lesson plans, I've no doubt." (Y/n) laughed, thinking back on the stories she'd been told.

"Yeah-" Pete nodded admittantly. "You been down to the base recently?"

"Not for a while- Papa doesn't like me going there without him to chaperone; not since I took a leaf out of your books and got engaged to a pilot. Still the only time I've ever seen the guy really mad with me." She grinned. Pete just laughed.

"You demoted the guy to just an ex-fiance? That's cold (y/n)."

"Hey, we didn't even divorce! It was annulled! The guy doesn't get that privilege, Papa was right, he was an ass." She rolled her eyes as they reached the door and stood at it.

"Yeah- alright, makes sense." Pete shook his head with a smile. "Glad you and your Dad still share that high self esteem."

"I knew I was a prize to be won- You of all people know how a young pilot likes an Admiral's daughter. Shame I didn't know that my Dad was telling the truth when he gave me strict orders not to go out with pilots." She laughed and Pete could only agree. "Talking of that- You seen your Miss Benjamin again yet? She's living around here again you know."

"Well- actually, yeah." He spoke like he was still surprised about it.

"It go well?" (Y/n) grinned, immediately knowing that Pete Maverick Mitchell wasn't so stunned by any ol' lady.

"Something like that." He nodded with a slightly absent smile.

"Ooh- well, if any woman would be able to tame you, it'd be her." (Y/n) laughed as she teased the elder man.

"Yeah- Well; what about you kiddo?" He stopped and looked at her expectantly.

"What do you mean what about me?" She scoffed as if it weren't an obvious question.

"You've not got any fancy man? There's no one for me and your Dad to chase off?" Pete raised an eyebrow and gave a teasing smirk.

"No! I don't exactly get out much anymore, and even when I do I only find these dumb hotshot pilots who are younger than me and treat me like some piece of meat to ogle- not relationship material." (Y/n) spoke very matter of fact and ended with a little twitch of her nose.

"Good- that's the talk your Dad wants to hear." Pete nodded crossing his arms and leaning back on the door frame.

"I said not relationship material, not that-" Her eyes lit up and she grinned.

"Stop there! I've heard enough." Pete laughed and put a hand up. "Never should have told you what your Dad and I got up to back in the day..." (Y/n) rolled her eyes and grinned still. "Glad you're having fun, kid." Pete winked at her and gave her a playful nudge.

"Alrighty- well I guess you've gotta head off?" She sighed after a moment, sad to see him go. She got along with him very well, he held a place in her heart and he was like family to the Kazanskys.

"Yeah." He nodded with a solemn smile.

"I'll see you soon Pete. Thanks for coming." She nodded as he opened the door and turned to give her a hug.

"Anytime kid." He spoke sadly and softly, embracing her and then turning down tbe path. She stopped a few paces down and turned again- just catching her as she went to shut the front door, having watched him leave. "Hey, (Y/n)?" He called out.

"Yeah?" She looked up at him.

"If you've got time, you wouldn't want to help me out with one of my 'unorthadox methods' would you?" He asked, the idea having occured to him as he'd neared the gate.

"Uncle Pete- How could I ever say no to such a good influence as yourself?" She gave a smile and they shared a look that they'd always shared, since she was small, that meant trouble.

Less than an hour later she was sat on the edge of the decking behind the Hard Deck, looking out to the sea, whilst Penny and Maverick stood in the doorway of the bar, flirting like teenagers.

She leant back on the heels of her palms, letting the slotted wood dig in and reveled in the heat of the low sun. People normally expected her to stay home, what with how her Dad was doing- but he refused for life to anything but normal. That why he still tried to talk even though it hurt, why he still walked around even though he was nowhere near being the strong built pilot he had once been- instead he was a thin stick of a man, it was why he still worked. Normal people would have retired, travelled the world and completed some sort of bucket list, spent time with family. But he loved it too much- he wanted his family to remember him as the driven, motivated and stubborn old sap that he was- not as sick. So he insisted things just continue. This was how he wanted to enjoy what time he had; doing what he had always loved and what he always would love, with his wife and kids and friends around him.

So when (y/n) had texted her Dad to say she was going out for a bit with Uncle Pete (though she didn't dare elaborate on what they were up to) she received the thumbs up and the usual 'tell me when you're on your way home and stay safe.' text. And Pete got a 'Don't let my kid do anything you or I would do Mav'.

She heard a vehicle pull up in the lot and smiled to herself, pulling her sunglasses from her nose and eyes and perching them on her head.

After a few minutes there was another, and another and she could hear people talking, calling eachother over.

Mav glanced at her and she gave a cheeky smile. He returned one and gave a nod. She loved the stupid shit they got up to.

She stood and pulled her cropped linen shirt back over her shoulders- it was supposed to be a sun cover but she'd long since neglected to use it for that. She wore a sky blue bikini and she knew she looked damn good in it. That was half the fun of what was coming next.

First, she picked up the little portable radio that sat next to her, playing quietly bluetoothed to her phone and playing one of her playlists. She slung it over her shoulder, and then hooked a football, which had been nestled nearby in the sand, waiting for her, under her arm and waltzed on around the corner. She could just see a glimpse of the group clad in khaki uniform.

"Yeah- outside the Hard Deck, that's what he said." She heard a voice. Someone looked up, having noticed the music first, but saw her and looked away quickly- surely assuming it wasn't relevant to their mysterious instructions.

She continued closer, counting 1, 2, 3, 7- 10 and 12. That was all of em, plus Hondo- who she knew well and was keeping his mouth shut about what he knew the exercise was.

Another one glance at her, looked her up and down with a smirk but again turned away.

She looked like any other beach goer, pretty hot, a slightly darker tan on the shoulders and legs and a touch of pink on her nose- even slightly freckled.

"Hey, Boys and Girls-" She spoke, unable to get rid of the smirk on her face. Most of the group turned to her and noted her confident stance and twinkle in her eye. "Looking for Maverick?"

She spotted Bradley Bradshaw, he was tall- and she remembered him from the Top Gun 86' class reunions which she and all the families were dragged to. Plus Mav had brought him round a few times when they were kids, their Father's had been friends after all. All the pilots in that class who knew his Dad well wanted to keep an eye on him. Poor kid was always paraded around those events cos of his Dad, usually stuck to Mav or his Mom like glue. (Y/n) was usually paraded around as the eldest kid of the class first placer- and since he was rising in the ranks as she got older, as the kid of an Admiral. She never knew Bradshaw actually became a pilot- she knew he'd not got into the academy first time round, what with Mav pulling his papers, but didn't know much more. As usual her Dad kept 'work stuff' seperate from home (except Pete, of course, he was everything), so she didn't know he was around at all. She was glad for him, it never sat right that Pete had interfered, even if she could guess why it was that he did.

The one who had glanced at her, 'Hangman' she read from his uniform, went to speak with a bit of a smirk going, but it was Bradshaw ('Rooster'?) who spoke first.

"Yeah-" He looked like he recognised her for a moment, though she didn't expect him to- and he didn't seem to have enough confidence in the recognition to point it out. "You seen him?" He spoke with a hint of suspicion.

"Yep." She grinned and threw the ball toward the group of confused airmen, it was caught in the hands of a spectacled pilot. "He's put me in charge. I'm your referee." She winked and turned. She heard a hearty laugh and some chatter. Instinctively they all just followed.

Mav waved at them from the deck and threw her a whistle, which she caught as she passed by.

"Meet (Y/n). She doesn't bite-" He laughed as he looked at the pilots faces, all slightly confused but slightly amused by equal measure. "She's just got a damn good eye for detail." He grinned.

"Gotta know the rules before you bend em'" (y/n) laughed. "Now- I'm afraid I'm gonna need you guys to strip off and get sweaty- Pronto." She spoke, teasing was half the fun.

Mav watched as suddenly all of his pilots were the most cooperative they'd been the entire week and within about two minutes were split into two sides and running up and down the beach with football in hand.

He hated to admit that the little girl he'd watch grow up could be considered attractive by anyone in that way, but he knew that's how young men saw her. He hoped that it would drive them to put their all into the game- show off a bit. It had worked so far. Plus, he liked that (y/n) was getting out of the house- he'd always encourage her to do stupid shit (not dangerous stupid, but maybe a bit dumb), he had to be the fun one even if she was an adult now.

"Hey- Pete. The sides are uneven." She called up to him.

"Yeah- what about it? Realistic isn't it?" He laughed as she put her hands on her hips.

"Hangman says it's unfair and he's getting pretty moody about it." She raised an eyebrow.

"That's just cos Bagman's loosing-" Pheonix called out.

"I am not loosing! And I am not being moody!" Hangman spoke with with a lightness and laugh in his tone that was unfamiliar. He wasn't being quite so arrogant today- competitive? Yes. But he seemed to have momentarily mellowed. The activity agreed with him.

(Y/n) turned to him and raised an eyebrow, giving a look of 'what did you just say?'.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nodded when he saw it and she just laughed. She'd practiced that one on her brothers before, always commanded respect. She couldn't have been more her father's daughter.

"So, Pete-" She started before Mav put his hands up and shook his head. "You put me in charge old man! I'm telling you to come even the field, so give the lady up there something to look at and play the game!" She laughed and Mav sighed. He couldn't argue it and joined them.

As she watched the pilots play, watching for foul play, she couldn't help but think that they were all so typical of pilots. She liked em, but Hangman was clearly a peg above the rest in his own head, Bradshaw (she didn't know how used to Rooster she was when she thought of him as a sky little blonde kid in her head) seemed to take himself too seriously, they were all powerful personalities. She thought they were attractive, but broadly uninteresting. She wasn't looking for anything like that anyway.

She scanned the field of play, and awarded a point to Coyote as the game began to lapse into fun more than anything serious. It'd already been an hour or two. No one was paying attention to the time.

It didn't help that she kept getting distracted. She wasn't sure why, but her eyes kept drifting and she'd find herself watching one man in particular- for no particular reason- instead of the game.

She liked watching how he watched his colleagues - how his eyes darted about and he seemed to calculate things in an instant before a muscular arm would shoot up into the air and signal for someone to make a move. He had enough faith in his teammates that just once glance back at them was enough before he was moving onto the next step. His face would be deadly serious as he ran, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they slipped, but break out into a grin as something went well- and fade back into a stern concentration as his mind swirled through the strategy of it all. He wasn't perfect at it; he was playing football- that wasn't was he was trained to do, and he looked delighted at himself everytime he ended up with the ball- and yet knew exactly what he wanted to do with it, where to put himself and who to pass to.

(Y/n) didn't know what about that she seemed drawn to but she kept catching herself. So much for an 'eye for detail'. She had an eye for detail alright- just the wrong damn ones tonight. She could only laugh at herself.

Mav eventually tapped out. She glanced back at him as he sat down, and noticed Simpson walking across the sand, looking as stern as usual.

She approached as he started talking to Mav, and smiled.

"Miss Kazansky-" He nodded.

"Sir." She spoke courteously but stood at an angle that meant she could glance back at the game. Simpson seemed for a moment to not know what to say to her, and he looked like he was about to ask something attempting to be sentimental about her Father. People didn't know how to talk to her these days. But equally he just seemed confused as to the necessity of her presence. "I'm referee." She nodded.

"I see." Simpson spoke slowly. "Who's winning?"

"I think they stopped keeping score a long time ago." Mav laughed, looking up at his boss.

"Yeah..." She agreed, meaning to laugh but instead sounding slightly unsure as she looked back and once again her eye was caught by a young man. That was until another dispute came about- "I still get to hand out points though." She laughed and took a springy jog toward the group.

The teams had dissolved by now, but since (y/n) was still there with a whistle and her thumbs up was needed for points (as meaningless as they were now) the group all threw their hands in the air and ushered her over.

"Hey- (y/n), you see that?" Coyote called, and it was echoed.

"He was over the line!" Pheonix argued- and pointed down at a line that they'd drawn in the sand which now barely existed.

"Now come on- (y/n)? That was clear!" Hangman laughed and looked between her and Bob, who was stood out of breath, the ball in his hands, leaning over. He pushed his glasses up and stood- saying nothing but looking at her expectantly, a smile twitching at the edge of his lips.

In truth she had no idea what was happening. She was watching him- but she was watching him, not what he was doing in terms of the game. She was deciding that she thought he was cute.

She slowed from her jog and walked over. Soon she was close enough that she was looking up at him. She used the opportunity to look him up and down, slowly. Suddenly the group fell silent. They were all hanging on this now.

He was clearly quite muscular - even if he hid that under the baggy t-shirt he wore instead of none like the other guys. His expressions were generally soft, he was pretty especially even when he was sweaty.

"No. He gets the point." She smiled and looked up at him through her eyelashes as she did. He lit up and was quickly swept up by Rooster who half tackled him whilst the entire gang cheered.

She laughed as she watched him get hoisted onto Rooster's shoulders and his colleagues start chanting his name. She walked behind, shaking her head as she thought about how teenage she was being- letting a guy win just cos she thought he was cute.

She looked up at Pete, who was still sat in his fold up chair, the radio playing next to him. He had a twinkle in his eye. Today was his idea of fun. If only he'd had the chance to do something dangerous in a jet she was sure he would have considered it perfect.

She looked past him, to see Penny ushering the group inside- the bar wasn't usually open today, but she would allow the group a couple rounds.

She walked along, slowly, just sorta watching everything as she headed for the bar. Pete stood as the group reached him long before she did. He had that stupid familiar grin on his face.

Rooster put Bob down and the guy was surrounded by his peers quickly, all thumping him heartily on the back and still cheering.

Someone turned and called (y/n) to hurry up, she shook her head with a laugh- which only encouraged the rest of them to call out to her. She just laughed, she didn't want to run, but she was surely on her way.

Pete took up a jog toward her, his own laugh on his lips.

"Pete! Don't you dare!" She realised what he was up to when he was just a few yards away- as the pilots cheered and her eyes widened.

"Maverick!" She yelped.

He knew he was in trouble then. Sarah had banned callsigns in the house- 'Someones Mama worked hard on that name you know- and if you hadn't noticed, we're not in fighter jets. The Navy would never have such nice carpets.'

Before she could stop him, he'd lifted her on his shoulders in a fireman's carry- which prompted more cheers from the pilots as she and Mav just laughed, her sunglasses slipping from her face and onto the sand.

"Just like when you were a little kid." Mav grinned and spoke as he carried her toward the bar, collecting the group as he went.

He finally put her down inside, as the rest headed for the bar. She gave him a playful punch in the arm- to which he just laughed and headed behind the bar to help Penny.

She shook her head and laughed.

"Hey-" She heard from behind her. She turned, but didn't need to, the man the voice belonged go had circled to face her. She didn't even have time to say anything before he seemed very close to her and she realised who it was.

"You dropped these?" He spoke, holding out her sunglasses to her with a little, calm smile.

"Oh-" She felt her cheeks heat up and preyed they weren't flushing pink. "Thanks." She smiled and softly took the glasses from his outstretched hand. She never got flustered, but my my did she feel like a teenager.

"Anytime." Bob nodded and didn't move for a moment, wether or not he knew he was holding the tension, keeping her stunned and not breaking eye contact, was an interesting question. Either way he was doing just that.

Before he could, (y/n) decided to throw caution to the wind. She hadn't felt like this in a long time.

"Can I get you a drink?" She asked quickly and looked to the bar- before she totally melted in front of him.

"Uh- yeah, please." He nodded.

(Y/n) had to move away from him before she froze up, so she moved toward the bar- glancing back to see him follow.

"What can I get ya?" She asked, feeling a little more her smooth and confident self. This was not usually a difficult task.

"Just a coke, thanks." He smiled and nodded as (y/n) leant on the bar.

"You don't drink?" She looked up at him. He shook his head.

"No- never been my thing." He smiled, content and cool in that answer. Clearly pretty secure in himself, not one to be pressured into anything. She liked that. It was kinda hot.

"I like it." She smiled and waited a beat as he met her gaze for a moment. "Cheap date." She spoke that bit unknowingly quietly- still slightly dazed.

She chatted to him for a while, and they joined the others playing pool at one point. God- she really did like him. He was a little quiet, but not exactly shy. He was intelligent and interesting. He was pretty funny too- at least she thought so.

It was a pretty chilled out evening- as Mav and Penny looked on from the bar, sat with their own drinks.

Eventually (y/n) looked up at the clock.

"Wow- how did it get to be that late?" She spoke to herself.

"Time flies when you're having fun, (y/n)." Hangman spoke leaning on his pool cue and winked at her.

She rolled her eyes playfully. She now knew he was just sorta like that- he was definitely flirting but he seemed to flirt with anything with a pulse so she didn't exactly take it personally.

"Well, I still gotta get home-" She spoke, trying to think of how to get there. She'd got here with Mav, he probably he expected he was gonna drop her home too.

"I can give you a ride." Bob spoke, more confidently and keenly than even he had expected to sound. She turned and looked at him. She didn't hesitate to answer- but Bob still followed it up with "If you- want?" He suddenly seemed back to his mildly awkward self. "I haven't been drinking so-"

"Thanks- I'd like that." She cut him off and smiled, finally sensing her confidence coming into it's own like she was used to.

He nodded and smiled, tipping the last of his drink past his lips before standing.

He put his hand out to her as he stood in front of her and she gathered her things, her purse and phone, then the jeans and t-shirt she'd been wearing earlier in the day before she'd changed into the bikini she was wearing.

She looked up and instinctively took it as she stood.

"Thanks." She mumbled, with a twitchy, shy smile.

Bob just gave a soft, warm smile, and again she just couldn't look or she knew she'd never move again. She slid her hand from his and headed to Maverick. Bob stayed still, watching her- and not even processing that the entire rest of his colleagues were watching the entire exchange, totally fascinated.

"Pete-" (y/n) smiled.

"Kid." He nodded.

"Thanks for today." She smiled and gave him a tight hug.

"You're welcome." He smiled as he squeezed her tight. "Give my love to your Mom and Dad- alright?" He asked, and she nodded.

"I'll see you soon, Pete." She spoke. "And you too Penny." She smiled and gave another hug to the woman.

"It was lovely seeing you again darling." She nodded.

"Not too soon, (y/n)." Pete spoke slowly, as yhey shared a knowing look. They knew what next time would be.

She nodded and gave an almost bittersweet smile.

Then she turned back to the group- swapping it for a grin as she saw Bob walking toward her.

"It was great meeting you guys! I hope this mission of yours goes well- fly safe and come home!" She waved as Bob stood by her.

A chorus of goodbyes and mirrored sentiments came up.

Soon they were out the door and heading toward Bob's old beat up pick-up.

"You know who that was don't you?" Hondo spoke as soon as they were definitely out of earshot.

This gained him some confused looks from the pilots.

"(Y/n) Kazansky. Admiral's daughter." He grinned as he spoke smoothly and drank. Knowing he'd unleashed some good information.

"Oh shit-" Rooster spoke, half laughing, half realising he was right when he'd first thought of it and assumed he was wrong.

"And my Goddaughter." Mav called across to add to the conversation.

"My god- Bob doesn't know what he's in for." Hangman laughed.

"If you think I would have let any of the rest of you take her home- You're idiots." Mav laughed.

It was a pretty normal journey, the pair chatted- then a lull came in the conversation. She watched the streets go by through the window and listened to the radio.

"Oh, Bobby-" She smirked and Bob's ears perked up and he immediately felt heat in his cheeks at the nickname. She sighed as she spoke it. "My Daddy always told me to say away from pilots... Such a cruel thing- when you're sat so close to me." She smiled and shook her head before glancing at him. Her eyes drifted from watching his scan the road, to his jaw and lips and neck, to his hands as they turned the wheel.

After a few moments he took his eyes from the road on a quiet street, and glanced right back at her. As her eyes made their way back to his face, she was almost stunned to find his to meet.

Once they did, a smile crept onto his face- one that let on something.

He turned back to the road.

"I don't fly the plane. I'm a WSO, not a pilot." He spoke, his smile remaining.

"I know." She breathed.

Again, there was quiet.

Soon they pulled up outside the addresses she'd given.

He switched off the ignition and looked over at her. He gave a soft smile. She gave a little smirk.

"Get out." She spoke. He looked at her for a half a second then did as told.

He stood beside the truck, holding the door open and looking in. "Now close the door and turn around. I'm gonna get changed." She nodded.

"Yes Ma'am." He spoke under his breath, taking one last very quick look at her in her bikini before once again taking the instruction.

"What a gentleman." He heard her tease, the smile on her lips almost audible.

He chuckled to himself and looked down at his shoes as he waited, his hands clasped behind his back.

Soon he heard the door of his truck open and close again.

"You can look." She spoke as she rounded the front of the truck.

He looked round at her. There she was, blue jeans and white t-shirt. Classic.

He smiled once again. He didn't think he could stop, she was too pretty.

"Thanks for the ride, Bobby." She used the nickname again and stood close.

"Anytime." He spoke breathily, slowly- with a small nod as he leant back on his truck.

She moved her hand up and tucked a small rolled up piece of paper behind his ear.

She smiled and couldn't break the eye contact. He didn't move a muscle.

He looked so pretty in the dusk light. The damp strands of hair that fell across his forehead, how the oversized loose shirt sat over his shoulders, the shine in his eyes and his overall aura of calm. It was magnetic to her.

She finally moved to turn away, and as she faced away from him, he acted on impulse- putting his hand in the back pocket of her jeans and spinning her back around, plunging into a deep and very tender kiss.

She melted into it- though she didn't expect it from him.

His hand stayed in her back pocket, his other rested on her hip, ring finger through her belt loop. She wasn't going anywhere though.

Hers rested on his chest.

Eventually they pulled away. She was flushed pink, he was strangely calm.

He looked at her, and looked up behind her- noticing the Admiral stood at his front door watching with a stern look on his face. Bob gave a sheepish smile.

(Y/n) glanced over her shoulder, and gave a breathy laugh before looking back. Bob looked back to her.

Slowly he let go of her, and she let her fingertips trail on him.

"Call me, Bobby." She smiled as she turned away again and headed for her door.

He nodded and breathed out as he watched her go.

"I surely will..." He spoke to himself.

"He's not a pilot, Papa." She smiled as she walked in the door. "He's real sweet."

Ice closed the door.

"I saw." He spoke slowly, looking unimpressed. "I know my aviators." He told her. He handpicked these guys, he could recite their records like the alphabet by now. He handpicked them to fly missions, not to audition them for son-in-law. Even so- he had to admit, Floyd's record was clean as a whistle. He had commendations and good reviews across the board.

"Bob!" Fanboy spoke as he walked back into the bar. Suddenly he was swamped and surrounded by his peers who were patting him on the back and chattering.

He smiled sorta shyly as they did.

"What'd you do?" Pheonix teased, not expecting anything.

"Kissed her at the door-" He answered- leading to another cheer.

"Man- you know she's Admiral Kazansky's daughter? Right?" Coyote spoke, amazed and with a laugh.

"You didn't?" Bob returned with a little smirk at the corner of his mouth as he looked around.

If they hadn't lost their shit before then- they did as he said that.

"Dude- you've got some balls." Hangman slapped him on the back and laughed. "I mean- that's real crazy stuff."

Mav shook his head at the whole lot of them, taking a drink and smiling. As he did, he saw his phone light up in his jacket pocket, hung on a chair.

I'm assuming you're responsible for what I just saw?

Depends

Floyd.

I wouldn't let our baby girl go home with any old pilot

He's not a pilot

Exactly

You're dangerous

I am

Love you too Ice

--------------------

PART 2 HERE

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bearsinpotatosacks · 2 years

Text

5 Times Rooster Faced Death + 1 Time He Didn't

Mentions of cancer and panic attack described. Don't read if you're sensitive to these.

When it came to death, Rooster was strangely adapted to it. He didn’t like that fact, that he’d faced more death and grief than most, but it was a fact. It had taken him a while to accept it. Anger came too quickly. Tears when there was no one around.

It was always a surprise too. Every death came as a shock. It left him with an unhealthy reflex, to assume someone had died, assume catastrophe, whenever someone seemed shocked or upset. Anxiety came flooding, he let himself slip and anger came too quickly when the inevitable questions came. He didn’t want questions, because that would mean thinking about the pain, about all the horrible things, and that was too much. He just wanted to get on with things, didn't want to be ruled by things. Yet he couldn't deny that they were a part of his life.

Goose

The first time he’d dealt with death was almost well known, at least among other Naval Aviators. He’d been four when his dad died. Had no idea of the risks that came with being an Aviator at the time, all he knew was that his dad flew, and if he missed him while he was away, he should look at the sky and know he was there.

He still did that from time to time. Cloud watching and stargazing. He knew it was bogus but he liked to think that he was up there, that his soul looked down on him, like Mufasa in the Lion King- that film meant more to him than some people realised.

It had seemed like a regular day. He was in the garden, enjoying the California sun and continuing on his recent obsession, animals. His mum had tasked him with drawing his favourite animals. He'd drawn a Goose.

There had been a knock on the door, far off in the bungalow. His mum got up from sunbathing and went to the door, the conversation lasted a long time. She’d called him after while, trying to keep her voice steady. He'd ran to her, ever the obedient child, and at the last minute, he picked up one of his drawings of a goose.

He remembered his mother’s red eyes, her hands barely stopping from shaking and her gasp when he showed her the badly drawn Goose he’d just made.

He knew he would’ve wondered why she wasn’t praising him for the drawing or why she'd called him from the garden, but he didn’t quite remember. Then she’d said that his dad wasn’t coming home, that there had been an accident and it would just be them and Uncle Mav and the smile dropped from his face.

He didn’t have a lot of memories of his dad, unfortunately. But if he focused enough he remembered the tinkling sound of a piano and bright colourful shirts rubbing against his cheek. He’d seen enough pictures, though, heard enough stories and watched a few home videos to start to know him.

But, his death, learning of it so shockingly as a child had just set him up for worse later. He tried not to be angry at him. Being angry wouldn’t bring him back, it wouldn’t have stopped the accident or made him know him more. But the anger at the world for letting it happen was still there.

This anger grew as he aged. Sometimes he found people, or already had them in his life, to help to put it out. His mum and Mav had a knack for getting him to talk or let out his emotions in healthy ways.

Yet, the universe, fate, destiny, or maybe some cruel deity, decided that he wasn’t worthy of that. That giving him hope and love and support was too much. And he lost someone else.

Carole

Ten years. He'd had ten years of peace before someone decided it was too much. Maybe he’d done something atrocious in a previous life to make him so deserving of it, if he even believed in reincarnation.

His mum had gotten sick at the start of his freshman year of high school. He'd had so much hope. Time to grow up, learn how to drive and figure out what he wanted to do with his life. Not that he needed much help with that. He'd been watching Mav fly since he could remember, some of his earliest memories were of him sitting on dry grass watching planes shoot by.

He wanted to be a Naval Aviator.

Then she’d started to cough, quiet at first but evolving into great fits that left her winded. She complained of her back hurting constantly, although she shrugged that off as getting old. When the fatigue kicked in he'd started to worry, gone to Mav instead of school because he was getting so worried.

She hadn't been impressed by that, but it had proven a good enough push for her to go to the doctor. Although the doctor wrongfully diagnosed her with bronchitis. They'd hoped she'd get better, she certainly made it seem that way, but then she'd started to get thinner.

It was Christmas when he'd really started to notice. People usually gained weight over winter, with Thanksgiving and Christmas so close together, and both being festivals to feast.

His grandmother had noticed first. She picked out that she wouldn't be complaining of the cold if she stopped believing in the fad diets of the nineties. But that was the thing. His mother hadn't been on a diet.

Next the coughing got worse, she slept more and lost her appetite. She’d tried to brush it off as a bad infection, the bronchitis coming back, but after there was blood coming up in the mucus when she coughed, Mav took her to the hospital and came back with a harsh look on his face.

Lung Cancer. Stage Four. It had spread to her liver too. They hadn't noticed her skin getting paler over the past few weeks. She hadn't mentioned feeling a lump in her stomach. She had four months left, six with treatment.

He'd fallen apart there. She was meant to live. She was meant to be there. Now he was going to be an orphan and felt guilty for mainly wondering where he was going to live.

Mav had stopped what he was doing to look after him. He stopped taking missions overseas, made sure he was just a short plane ride away if Carole ever took a turn for the worse.

Which she did. Her hair got thinner, clung to the brush as she did her hair in the morning. He never got used to the sound of her vomiting after treatment. In fact, he still had a slight aversion to being sick in general, even over ten years later.

One particular night he remembered clear as day. She’d been for more treatment, Mav always tried to be there but just couldn't this time, not when he already had a bad reputation with Admirals and his guardian angel couldn't bail him out this time.

They were almost past tears. Not fully, of course, he heard her crying when she thought she was alone. She'd had to be strong for so long and even when she kept getting weaker and weaker, she tried to remain strong.

She pulled out some old VHS tapes from memories long gone and played them to him. One of his first Christmas, sitting on his dad's knee as he opened his first present. A model F-14. He still had it on his windowsill.

His dad had the most awful Christmas sweater on. A blinding mix of colours and scratchy wool. He had a smile on his face, his mum laughed from behind the camera. Mav gave his own present with a beer in his hand, a Goose cuddly toy. He still had that too.

The next was his parents' wedding. His grandfather, whom had died before he wasn't even two, also of lung cancer he later found out, walked his mother down the aisle. Mav stood behind his dad, both dressed in white suit jackets with red corsages.

He watched them cry as they said their vows, watched people throw rice when they ran out of the church and Mav wave Brad's own little baby hand at them as they did.

Their first dance was to an old tune he heard his mum play as she cooked, or sing in the shower. He watched how the lights shone on their smiling faces. Joy that couldn't be measured on their faces. They all looked so young, so carefree and happy.

Mav made a speech next, some funnier bits about crazy stories from their times in flight, to more serious ones about how they were his family and how happy he was that they were even closer now.

Then there was another tape of his dad and Mav meeting his mum and him at the airport. A Thanksgiving meal. Fourth of July barbecue with his dad's Hawaiian shirts. A simple evening where his dad played piano, Mav's awful singing voice curdling the perfect tune.

Tears pricked to his eyes as the screen went blank. A soft gasp came from his mother as she lay her head on his shoulder and let out a few cathartic tears. He joined her but after they were finished, she turned to him, cold seriousness with loving tenderness in her eyes.

"He was so proud of you, still is, I know it," she'd sniffled, stroking his wet cheek with her cold hand. "And so am I, so is Mav, we all love you so much, I hope you never forget that."

He had, unfortunately. At least, he'd gotten blinded by hate over Mav pulling his papers that he forgot the love that was behind it.

Then, just a week later, she collapsed while putting washing out to dry and was rushed to the hospital.

She wouldn't come out.

Three days she was in there. Needed a ventilator to breathe, slept even more than she already did, which was a lot.

And on the last day, she called Mav in, he didn't know what they talked about but he knew it wasn't good from the look on his face when he came back to the waiting room. He knew now what it was. She’d asked him, begged him, to pull his papers when he applied to the Naval Academy. She couldn't die with the idea of her son dying young like his father. And Mav took the blame to save her memory.

He'd been there when she died. Her weakened grip went slack in his hand. Her eyes closed and the death rattle escaped her lips. She was dead and Bradley became an orphan.

He'd lost someone again and the pain was so much, too overwhelming to deal with that he shut down. Mav cried, didn't hide it but didn't break down. He went to live with him and clung onto the comfort he gave throughout the funeral, lent on him as they lowered the casket and sobbed into his shoulder at the wake.

But, even Mav’s comfort couldn’t last forever. They had three good years before Mav ‘betrayed’ him. And in hindsight he could see how he was already trying to steer him from being an Aviator. He suggested he still apply to colleges enough that he eventually did it. Perhaps he wanted him to have more options, see the other parts of the world and not double down on a dangerous profession. Or maybe he was just preparing him for when he pulled his papers and didn’t want him left with nothing to fall back on.

Yet, no matter what Mav’s intentions were, Bradley found out that he’d pulled his papers and cut off the connection. He lost everyone he knew and learnt how to hide the deep rooted, all encompassing pain that slowly came to consume him.

Crewmates

After cutting off connections with Mav, it took him a lot longer to adjust and find a new normal than he would’ve liked. College hadn’t suited him. Sure, he worked hard, always did. But no-one he met shared his love and desire to be a Naval Aviator, most didn’t even know the Navy had Aviators and called them pilots.

Yet, the day of his graduation was one of his happiest days, as it meant that he could join the Naval Academy and continue on the track that Mav kicked him off without his input. He did see him at the back of the crowds of parents. They didn’t talk.

He shot through the Academy, made a name for himself for being technical and careful aviator. Finally, he made friends who shared his passions, ones that he didn’t have to go into his past too much to, or talk about Mav too. He belonged in the sky, finally felt at home and more connected to his dad than he ever had done.

This was his time. He finally started to feel at home, became himself in a way he didn’t know he could feel. It was like he’d gone from wearing his dad’s ill fitting suit to getting his own.

That didn’t stop him from becoming like his dad, though. Being in the air made him start to understand his dad in ways that his mum or Mav couldn’t convey to him. He grew his moustache the same, kept his car and wore his shirts, he’d already been playing the piano from the age of six, but learnt Great Balls of Fire.

Yet, after graduating, he still separated himself from the legacy of his dad and the name that Mav had made for himself. He got to see the world in all its ways and in some ways he started to heal from the pain of his youth. The missions took up his mind, seeing how large the world was gave him perspective and the people he met made him start to forget that he could lose them.

But he lost it again. He should’ve expected it. Mav had tried to warn him but he couldn’t admit that he was right. That would mean healing the wound and accepting that there was love behind his actions, which he couldn’t do. Yet every time someone didn’t come back from a mission, he was thrown into a vapid, empty state, stuttering and filled with anxiety because he’d lost someone else.

Sometimes it was just one person, other times it was multiple. Part of him wanted to get used to it, losing people, because it made it easier than the pain of finding out someone you knew wasn’t there anymore. The comedown from the post-mission high, smiles falling and the flood of guilt that you didn’t save them, weren’t a good enough aviator to save them, you celebrated while someone had to find their corpse. Their family would grieve now and he couldn’t stop that despite knowing how heavy that was. It’s like he didn't care.

It would fade over time, like everything did. But it took longer and longer to piece himself back together after every loss.

He didn’t feel this more than when the entire rest of the team was lost. It was meant to be a simple mission, in and out, low risk because they didn’t know they were coming and wouldn’t know.

He’d failed them. After years of trying his best, being the best, he’d gotten cocky or arrogant or complacent, or all three. He took too many risks and had faced little consequence. Usually they were accepted risks. He wasn’t Mav and tried his best to make sure he wasn’t.

However, he was like Mav because in his shock of him pulling his papers, he’d hardened himself. So determined to make it as a pilot, be the best and show he was ready, he slipped and became the over-confident young pilot that Mav had been before his dad’s death, perhaps with a little more caution. And he’d payed the price.

Firstly, he hadn’t treated it as seriously as he should have. Every mission was serious, and although they could be low risk, they all deserved the same time and attention that complex missions did.

Secondly, it had been a while since he'd been on a mission. He’d taken some time off over Christmas to visit Uncle Iceman after the initial cancer diagnosis and had been itching so badly to get in the air that he’d made simple mistakes, brushed them off and pushed harder.

He wanted to get to the air to blow of some steam, to get closer to his dad and prove everyone wrong. Well, he had proven them wrong by destroying expectations. He’d gone too fast, gotten lost in the relief and flying faster than his worries could go and when they surfaced, and he had to slow down to think, they’d hit him so hard he couldn’t think about the mission.

Bradley was the only one who’d made it out alive. In a combination of missile strikes and a badly timed bird strike, all his teammates had either been shot down before they had a chance to eject or died on a turbulent ride to the ground with their parachutes.

He got out by the skin of his teeth. They’d practically locked him in the infirmary with the scars, bruises and broken ribs he’d suffered. Everyone told him that it wasn’t his fault, that these things happened and he shouldn’t blame himself.

Of course he didn’t listen to them and blamed himself anyway. He didn’t think enough, relied on dodgy reflexes that failed him. He also hadn’t been able to separate his work life from his home life, couldn’t shut things away to deal with later, he felt everything, even the emotion of feeling nothing, with such intensity, that it got hard to focus on what was important.

Later on they’d found out that one of the crew, an RIO, had survived but couldn’t be located before he died of exposure. That was definitely his fault. That RIO had been the only one who’s parachute hadn’t been destroyed by the enemy F-18’s. He thought he could’ve survived but in the moment, he’d settled to listen to the higher ups and get out of there while he could.

In that moment, after so long of building himself up, wanting to make a name for himself as an aviator away from Mav, connect with his dad, he’d never wanted Mav there more. He hadn’t given in, though, because that would mean giving up his pride and talking and he had no energy to talk. All his energy went to healing and the hours he spent pondering on how he’d move past such a colossal mistake.

No more acting without thinking. He needed to be careful, like he had been before he'd cut Mav out of his life, and separate his own problems from the air. This career wasn’t a joyride, it was serious and cost lives.

And after a year or so of simpler missions, of testing out his new work ethic and finding out that it made him an even better aviator, at least to the admirals, he got called back to TOPGUN and was faced with Maverick after so many years of blocking him out.

Iceman

He was there. He just had to be, didn't he? All that work, all that pain, fear and anger, all that blocking out of memories to make the rage easier.

At least that was something. For once, his emotions were real. In the past, after so long of not seeing him it got harder to feel the actual betrayal. Eventually he remembered the memory of it, then the memory of that, and so on until he knew it was just stupid not to let go. It had been over fifteen years since he'd seen Mav, that was a long time to hold a grudge, especially when he refused to see, hear or even know about Maverick.

But seeing him made it all real, yet harder. Initially, the rage was powerful, made it easy to brush him off when he tried to reach out an olive branch. But he hated olives.

Seeing Mav trying so hard almost made him sick. Couldn’t he see his actions had hurt him? Why did he have to try? Could he see his plans to resent him forever were already cracking? He’d wrapped himself in this hate like a comfort blanket. Was he trying to remove the mask? Was he trying to humiliate him by taking away the only thing he truly had going for him?

This had been a part of himself for so long that he didn't know what to do without it. Even though it was already slipping, he’d built himself into who he was on this hatred. Resenting him since he was eighteen took effort, it was hard to hate someone you'd forced yourself not to think about.

But it was still annoying. Annoying that he had to have such a dilemma when he'd just come back to himself. All his confidence was slipping, his new tactics weren't good enough.

And that's all Mav saw. All these years and his reasons for pulling his papers still stood. To him, Rooster had just proved him right. Over ten years and he wasn't any better than he had been as a kid.

God, it infuriated him. One part of him wanted to rid himself of this meaningless hatred, talk to him and tell him how far he'd come. Another part wanted to double down because how dare him walk back into his life like nothing happened.

So he lashed out. Refused to talk to him when he wanted. Lashed out at Hangman when he blamed Mav for his dad's death but didn't defend Mav either.

And after Coyote almost crashed, Phoenix and Bob almost died, he couldn't hold back. Trauma resurfaced because he couldn't lose someone else, not another team. All this conflict, his warring sides building pressure that couldn't be contained. Everything combined, one more worry than he could handle, and it all exploded.

He didn't notice the way Mav's face dropped. Every word dripped acid. He wanted them to hurt. He wanted him to understand all the emotions he'd felt without letting them go, without giving him a say or a chance to talk it through.

Then Warlock entered and gave them the news. Iceman was dead.

Another shock. Another death that flooded him with guilt because he didn’t know the cancer was back. Mav obviously knew, knew it was terminal and he'd just told him that no one would mourn him.

He could understand why he wasn't told. Cancer was a private thing sometimes, no one knew that more than Bradley. Flashes of his mother’s gaunt face filled his head.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt. Because he was so focused on Phoenix or Bob or Coyote dying, so focused on Mav pushing them too much and killing them that it had almost lulled him into a false sense that everyone else was safe.

He'd failed him. His heart flooded with pain that overwhelmed him. Iceman dying, seeing Mav again, being pushed to the brink of his capabilities almost made him collapse.

The funeral was a memorable blur. Planes soared overhead, the folding of the flag, the feeling of his formalwear against his skin on the sweltering hot day. It made his head spin.

He couldn't take his eyes off Mav and the inundation of guilt that was etching itself into his skin made it hard to focus. Anxiety joined it as he became hyper aware of where everyone was and what they were doing just so he wouldn't be caught off guard, so if someone else died then he would know and the pain became less.

But he had to learn to drown it out, because the mission was pushed ahead, and they were on a ship toward the enemy before he could process what had happened.

Maverick

Mav picked him for the mission. He believed he was ready, he finally saw that he was ready, he'd taken the step to trusting him.

Somehow, he'd managed to separate all the intensities of the last few days and focus on flying. Well, he'd only managed to do that because of Mav’s advice to do, not think.

That sparked some fear. Because last time he flew without thinking, four people died. This time would be different though, he was making sure he was paying attention in the moment and had trained for this mission for two weeks straight. He could do this.

And he did. He made it through the canyon, blew up the uranium tank hatch and made it over the mountain. Endorphins flushed his system. He'd done it, the impossible mission was almost complete, they just needed to get home.

Then another shock hit him. He knew about the missiles and wasn't shocked at the enemy's fifth generation aircraft. They'd prepared for that.

But the borage of missiles, in such close range. Trying to dip in and out, releasing flares at the proper time, avoiding the enemy and trying not to crash into Mav, Payback and Fanboy or Phoenix and Bob took all his concentration.

So he didn't realise how bad Mav had been hit until they didn't see a parachute. Cyclone was ordering them to come back in. There was no sign of Mav and he ran out of flares.

It was just like last time. The mission was going well until someone died and no one did anything. They were all going to die. He'd be the only survivor again. He was going to lose another family member, another father figure but it would be worse this time because he'd blocked him out on purpose for far too long.

So when Cyclone ordered him to come back to the ship again, he broke the cycle and went after Mav. Even if he was dead, even if there was no way to save him, he could at least say he tried. He would get to say goodbye this time.

Mav survived, of course. Brad saved him and got told off for saving him despite him doing the exact same thing for him. They escaped in an ancient F-14, off something that wasn’t even a runway. And after some strange hand maneuvers, sneaking dodging by Mav and Hangman's rescue, they were okay.

Apart from the broken ribs.

They were given two week's leave. Cyclone had said it was to let himself recover from the whirlwind that was their crew before focusing on either reassigning them, sending them back to previous posts or figuring out what they could do if they were stationed at Top Gun.

Rooster had taken this time to sleep in his temporary barracks. He basically lived in base barracks full time, the only time he wasn't there was on the rare time he had enough leave to either book a vacation or go back to Texas.

Sometimes he missed Texas. He barely saw his family home throughout the year and when he did go home to it, his days were filled with house and yard work.

He didn't even go home for Christmas or Thanksgiving if he had it off. Iceman was always welcoming in the holidays. Mav always found out where he was and sent him a Christmas card. Rooster could never bring himself to get rid of them, he just stored them in a box along with the birthday cards and anything else that reminded him of Mav.

But things were different now. He’d reconciled with Mav, met up with friends he hadn't seen in years and succeeded in a mission. All in all, he felt pretty invincible.

Mav was making sure that that feeling didn't stick, though. In between barbecues, beach days and fixing his plane, they had plenty of extra 'training' flights.

They were on one now. Rooster had that electric feeling he got when he first started flight school. Every nerve was aware. The roar of the engines, the soft white clouds skirting the tip of his wings, the convivial atmosphere over his coms, it hit a sweet spot that he'd been missing lately.

Too often flying became purely for the mission. Get in the air, fly to destination, complete mission, land on carrier. Repeat.

But here, now, he remembered why he wanted to fly. From his times flying with his mum to visit his dad and Mav on base, to flicking through his dad's mid-flight photos, to when Mav took him up in the air one summer when he was thirteen. He was made for the air.

They'd been practicing dog fighting in low visibility. The skies were thick with clouds, rain luckily wasn't forecast but the overcast sky still made it difficult. Apparently Mav had actually asked Cyclone for permission for this training exercise.

He was on his way back to base when the explosion sounded. A bright flash of light blocked his view momentarily. In the distance, he heard shouting on comms, but from the moment he heard the explosion, he was in a different world.

It wasn't a reaction to the sound. If he tried, he could hear just fine. It was what an explosion meant that scared him.

It meant death. Another shock. Another example of him letting his guard down when he was so tired of being on edge. Why was always punished for giving himself a break?

The anxiety didn’t ease as they made their way back to base. He still couldn’t focus on the conversations going on. Everything was in a cloud. He worked on autopilot to land the jet. The canopy opened and he removed his helmet without knowing.

Perhaps this is what he wanted, he thought as he climbed out and onto the dry tarmac of the runway. He didn’t know anyone had died, not directly, yet here he was, already getting distant, already grieving for someone despite not knowing who.

Mav walked his way. He couldn’t focus on the words of his fellow crew, or the sound of the wind as the sky became more overcast, or the echoing thrum of the few jets that had yet to turn off their engines. He couldn’t take his eyes off Mav’s face. Disgruntled, annoyed, generally pissed off and weary and it confirmed his fears.

Who’s died? He wanted to say, wanted to be prepared for this to make up for every other time he hadn’t been. But he also saw Hangman and Phoenix bickering jovially behind Mav, and Bob talking about a film he’d finally had chance to watch and a sick feeling of anger kicked in.

Was he wrong? Was everyone okay? If so, it just made the inevitable breakdown more chaotic. Couldn’t he be normal? Why did something as simple as flying have to result in an almost scary amount of dissonance on command?

And if he was right? How dare they act in such a way? Didn’t they hear Mav’s talk after they’d first rehearsed the mission route? How they wouldn’t be apologising to each other but their families? Like how Mav always apologised to his mother on bad days or to both his parents’ graves after Carole died.

Lost in his own world again, he didn’t realise the group had reached him and stopped. He gulped and shook some emotion into him that wasn’t the building anxiety.

“Alright Mav?”

He tried to hide how his answer would make or break his mental state for the next few months.

Mav just sighed, “Some idiots let off fireworks a little too close to the base for my liking, don’t they know that the fourth of July isn’t for a few days yet?”

That should’ve eased his beating heart. It should mean he laughed and joked about how for a moment he suspected worse. Mav would give him a reassuring smile and he’d join whatever Phoenix and Hangman were arguing about and everything would be fine.

But no. A layer of sweat was forming on his brow. All moisture had left his mouth. A pain fluttered through his chest, like a stone on his sternum, made it hard to take a deep breath.��

Distantly, he saw Phoenix stop mid sentence. She turned to him with that concern that didn’t make him feel small. He heard her asking if he was okay but couldn’t answer. There wasn’t any energy to focus on that, focus on forming into words how the world felt like it was ending right where he stood. His neck was too stiff to even shake his head.

The bubble he was in didn’t pop. It was steel plated and he couldn’t hear or process anything. The same idea that he’d lost someone, that someone wouldn’t be around, was still there and he didn’t want it to be. He didn’t want to feel this way but couldn’t do anything.

His legs gave way then. It was like he was swimming. The control he had on his limbs was practically none existent, and when he did move them it was slow and time consuming. Everyone sounded miles away.

A hand brushed his shoulder and he flinched from it. He couldn’t identify who it was, if it was friend or foe, and couldn’t react.

Where was he again? He felt like he was in g-lock. He couldn’t tell if gravity was actually working on his limbs. On the one hand, they felt too heavy to move, he lay stuck to the ground like a rock. On the other, the soupy, swaying feeling threw him off. Maybe he’d ejected from his jet? Had the explosion hit him? That would explain how confused he was.

“Rooster?” He knew that voice. “Roo? Bradley?”

He knew them. The words, the knowledge of who it was, was on the tip of his tongue. Too distant to reach. Couldn’t make out their features as his vision focused and unfocused before him.

“It’s Mav, you’re having a panic attack.”

That sounded serious. He didn’t want more serious. He heard his breathing coming out in laboured pants. His vision started to darken. His shoulders spiked in pain and his face turned wet. Was that tears? Were they his?

“Give him some room guys,” another voice ordered.

He knew that one too.

“Bradley, I need you to focus on my voice, okay?”

That sounded hard. He couldn’t really make him out but saw his figure in front of him.

“Bradley, I know it sounds hard but you need to calm down your breathing, if not, you’re going to pass out, and none of us want that,” Mav said, his voice was shaking but still calm.

“What can I do, Mav?”

There was a pause. The pulsing of his blood in his ears filled the quiet.

“Phoenix-" Mav sounded slightly relieved. "Get him a cup of cold water, and a separate one of ice, it’ll hopefully shock his system into forgetting the panic for a little bit.”

“Okay,” Phoenix said.

So that’s who it was. The sound of her boots slapping against the ground woke him up slightly.

“Roo, just copy me, okay?”

He found the energy to nod and listened to Mav counting. Five seconds in, two seconds hold, seven seconds out.

Five, two, seven, Five, two, seven.

It hurt. He felt like he was suffocating. He was going to kill him. He broke the cycle, desperate for air, trying to get rid of the feeling that he needed to run but couldn’t move still.

“Come on, Bradley, you were doing well there, I know it’s hard, I do, trust me, but if you carry on breathing properly, you’ll feel better,” Mav was forcing himself to be calm. “I need you to trust me.”

He nodded and carried on breathing again. His breath came back to him eventually. The world started to settle, he could see Mav again and heard Phoenix's less vigorous footsteps approaching.

"Thanks," Mav took the two cups from her and gave one to him. "Put one of these ice cubes in your mouth, it should distract you from the panic."

He nodded and obeyed. The immediate cold overran all of the foggy sensations. His head was still swimming. The general fear of someone dying, of the world ending, was still there but he could see past it now.

"Do I have to?" He said, words muffled around the ice cube. "This is cold."

Mav chuckled, "It's already working, you're talking again."

"What was that about?" Phoenix asked.

Rooster thought for a second. When he tried to think back, it was a blur of guilt and anxiety. He swallowed the melted ice. It cooled his raw throat.

"Those fireworks, when they went off, I didn't think it was just fireworks."

"That's understandable," Mav said. "We were all thrown, hell, I was pissed."

"All I could think was when you went down-" he looked at Mav. "Or when I got shot down, or when, a year ago, my entire team went down."

He took a sip of the water. The question was still in the back of his mind. Who'd died, despite everyone being okay.

"There's just so much death, you know, in my life, that whenever something happens, that's what I assume." He said. "I mean after Dad, and Mum, and Iceman, and almost you, Mav, it's not a crazy assumption."

Mav opened and shut his mouth. He stared into the distance for a second, settling down without a word to say.

Phoenix sat to his left. They all gazed out at the stretches of land outside the base. Heat rose from the ground, made the surrounding air wiggle.

Wind prickled across his hot skin. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. But the heat of his panic, the rush, was washed away in the waves.

"I didn't know your anxiety got that bad," Mav said after a while. "You were always a cautious child, a wild one, sure, but not before you took a little while to assess the situation."

"And of course your parents' deaths would affect you, my dad's did, I guess I just never considered how they were both a shock in some way, and how that would manifest."

Rooster exhaled. He was calmer now but he knew that wasn't the last time he'd feel such fear, and it took all his strength not to fall back into it at that thought.

"I didn't expect it either. But after so long dealing with this, I almost forgot that immediately assuming someone's died isn't a normal way to live," he said.

Phoenix pitched in, "Well, we know now, we can help."

She smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

He returned a smile without it feeling forced. It wasn't beaming and he still wasn't sunny, his stomach was weak and there remained a tremor in his hands, but he could smile.

"Thanks," he said. "It's nice to have people again. For so long, it's just been me-"

He rubbed Mav's shoulder, "-and I know we've already talked about this but I still held a grudge for close to twenty years. I mean, it wasn’t so much a grudge after a while as maintaining my pride because it seemed it had been too long to admit that my reaction was a bit rash or cutting you out of my life was drastic. So I got lonely and this reaction, this anxiety, got worse than I realised it had."

"But at least I've got you guys now, huh?"

They smiled at him and linked arms. The wind chilled his arms, he'd have to go inside soon. Fog clouded his head still, his muscles ached from tensing and skin felt itchy. But for the first time in a while, he didn't feel completely awful, there was hope. The change felt good.

So, my friend, @tophatcat459 , watched Top Gun Maverick, then again a week later, then explained the entire plot the week after, and the week after I watched it, and after two weeks, here we are. I love the found family of both top guns. Also I'm in love with Goose x Carole, so will probably write a few things for them.

My timeline for the top gun characters is:

Carole goes to college in 1979, Mav and Goose go to the Naval Academy also in 1979 and Goose and Carole get together in 1980, Rooster is born in 1982, Goose and Carole are married in 1984, Goose dies in 1986, Carole discovers she has cancer in 1996 and dies in 1997, Mav pulls Rooster's papers when he's 18 in 2000. And for me, the film takes place in 2019, so Rooster is 38.

I hope you enjoyed this!

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 2 years

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Okay so I've seen a few thing about Top Gun vs Top Gun Maverick and hangman is young Maverick. I mean think about it. Hangman leaves his crew to go show off, (Maverick did that too.) he's shows off to be funny/look "cool" (Maverick did that too.) There are so many on that list that he does that Maverick did too. Iceman was perfect, I really like how they brought him in. (Fun fact Val has the same cancer that his character did.) And for some reason when Ice said, "it's time to let go." That hit different on a whole other level. He had been living with the burden that Gosse's death was his fault and when Rooster appeared on the scene everything came back on him in a flash. Hence the flashback. You could just see it on his face.

Yeah! Hangman definitely has some Mav in him, but I still kinda see some Iceman in him. Hangman’s the blond antagonist who turns out to really be a good guy. Hangman came from a high flying family, at least that’s what it seems, and he’s got the same cocky nature both Ice and Mav have. I think Hangman’s a pretty good mix of both

I did know that about Val! Thought it was super cool and respectful for them to do what they did with Iceman-

But you’re right, the “Let Go” scene is super powerful, especially because it’s not just about everything that happened with Rooster, but it’s a callback to the original and mimics what Mav was told after he and Goose went down. It’s a super powerful line, definitely cried a little during that scene

#dillo’s replies #jilin winston curtis #tgm #top gun maverick #top gun maverick spoilers

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thegloober · 6 years

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30 Minutes on: “The Hate U Give”

by Matt Zoller Seitz

October 20, 2018 |

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I saw “The Hate U Give” after a couple of weeks spent revisiting classic silent films made nearly 100 years ago. George Tillman, Jr.’s film, which is based on Angie Thomas’ bestselling young adult novel, reminded me of them, a bit.The movie is at its best while channeling work from cinema’s earliest era, when films were still disparaged as lowest common denominator entertainment because they put beautiful images in service of simple, powerful stories stocked with simple, powerful characterizations, and always took the direct route in trying to connect with viewers.

It tells the story of Starr Carter (Amandla Sternberg), an African-American private school student who narrowly escapes a shooting incident at a party, gets a ride home from a charismatic young drug dealer named Khalil (Algee Smith) that she’s known since childhood, and becomes the sole witness to his murder at the hands of a jumpy white police officer who pulled them over in traffic stop that has all the hallmarks of routine harassment. The traumatized Starr has to decide whether to testify in front of a grand jury. Informing would put her and her family in the crosshairs of a drug dealer named King (Anthony Mackie), who bought her father, an ex-con and former gang member named Maverick (Russell Hornsby), a convenience store as reward for doing three years in prison for King’s crimes.

The movie’s even more tangled, plot-wise, than this synopsis suggests. It’s trying to cover major sociopolitical and historical ground while also succeeding as a three-hanky tragedy, an inspirational coming-of-age story, and a portrait of a community with its own distinct traditions and values, some noble, others self-defeating—all while appealing simultaneously to young fans of Thomas’ bestseller and newbies who have no idea what they’re about to see, not to mention enough of a demographic cross-section to make the film a mainstream hit. Starr has a half-brother named Seven (Lamar Johnson), born to a woman that Mav impregnated when he and Starr’s mother Lisa (Regina Hall) were separated; this would be irksome enough if Seven’s mother hadn’t taken up with King. King is so worried that Starr’s testimony will incriminate him that he and his goons try to terrorize the Carters to get her to clam up. The movie would fit nicely on a double-bill with “On the Waterfront,” another film about the ethics of informing (though one with a more problematic justification) where the story unfolds in a tightly knit community in which many of the key players are related by blood or work and everyone, including the most menacing or antisocial characters, are bound together by religion, politics, and a distrust of the government. Lisa even has a brother on the police force, a patrolman named Carlos (Common) who urges our heroine to tell the authorities what she knows, and asks, “If you can’t trust the system, can you at least trust me?”, seemingly oblivious to the fact that, when he’s wearing a dark blue uniform, that’s a distinction without a difference.

As adapted by the late screenwriter Audrey Wells—who died of cancer the day before the film’s release—”The Hate U Give” comes on like a basic novel-to-movie adaptation, designed to impress the source material’s fans with its faithfulness at the expense of subtlety. Its least effective scenes are overlaid with swaths of narration drawn straight from the book. These are read in a stilted tone, and tend to either duplicate what we can already see or supply facts that could’ve been conveyed through acting, direction, and expository dialogue. But they’re of a piece with the movie’s determination to take the most direct route towards explanation and illumination, and paint with a broad brush rather than leave anyone confused about what was intended.

This sounds like condemnation if you haven’t seen the movie with a decent sized audience, in which case you’ll appreciate how Wells and Tillman manage to keep the viewer emotionally invested at all times while constantly adding layers of information and marginal details that complicate our reactions to the characters. The actors all get at least one big monologue that lets them bring a lifetime of craft to bear on one or two minutes of screen time. The standouts might be Khalil’s playful attempt to seduce Starr, Maverick’s summation of his belief system, and Lisa telling Starr why she decided to stay with Maverick after he fathered another woman’s child, and Carlos admitting, with evident shame, that he’d treat white and black motorists differently in the same situation—but with this many spotlight turns, it’s hard to choose.

The film is a primer on systemic racism in the United States, aimed at young people as well as any older relatives who might not have gotten the memo. It embraces the idea that riots are the language of the unheard, inevitable and necessary if the people are being lied to, silenced, or micromanaged by authorities. A climactic clash between heavily armored police and anti-police brutality protesters in their street clothes is shot to evoke coverage of Ferguson, but also images of sadly similar incidents dating back to the origins of visual media. The film is also about how slavery and lynching continued in the United Staes under different labels while perpetuating the same multigenerational oppression. Starr’s Instagram page juxtaposes recent victims of police brutality with a graphic closeup of Emmett Till’s disfigured face, flat-out telling us that when American police kill unarmed black men for no clear reason, they’re committing acts of racist, vigilante terror, even though they refuse to call them that.

I’ve been watching Tillman’s work since “Barbershop” and “Soul Food,” but I didn’t know until I looked up his biography recently that he was inspired to become a director after seeing low-budget, predominantly black comedies and melodramas like “Claudine” and “Cooley High” as a ’70s child. That he’s managed to build a durable career making those kinds of movies at a time when it’s hard to get stories about reality into mainstream theaters is remarkable. That this film was released by a major studio and is essentially the story of a young black woman’s political radicalization is even more impressive.

And when the film is firing on all cylinders—as in the riot sequence, the political dynamism of which evokes the first Edmund Pettis Bridge scene from “Selma“—it’s nearly breathtaking in its sneaky audacity. The signature image in this film is a teenage black girl finding her inner revolutionary by chastising riot police through a bullhorn, then seizing a tear gas canister that they fired at her fellow protesters and lobbing it back a them. There’s a lot of commentary in the film about the way black police officers’ loyalties are torn, as well as how the tribal mentality ultimately decides the matter of whom to side with in a crisis. Maverick even draws an extended analogy between gang warfare and the rival houses in the Harry Potter books. If you somehow fused one of those earnest and didactic 1970s ABC Afterschool Specials with James Baldwin’s “Go Tell it on the Mountain” and “Battleship Potemkin,” the result might look something like this.

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