whiteout » top gun

two

the thing with pete mitchell is that you usually hear him before you see him. sometimes i swear that kawasaki bike engine is louder than a fighter jet. i glance over my shoulder at the sight of him clambering off the bike and grinning comically at me through the windows and stifle a groan. at this point, my back was aching from my poor posture, hunched over at the bar, having been waiting there for the past hour.

the bar owner chuckles and tops up my glass with more water, "looks like he's made it."

"penny, he was supposed to be here at four. it's five. you'd think that being in the navy, he'd learn a thing or two about punctuality. "

the front door squeaks open, followed by the sound of ringing bells and maverick's defiant tone, clearly having overheard the conversation, "in my defence, something came up.

i straighten up and turn to face the latecomer, who makes his way to the counters.

"good to see you too, julie."

"hm. what exactly came up?"

"your old man, actually,"

"what did he say?"

"just that he's sent you to come oversee my assignment." he sits down next to me on a bar stool and there's a pregnant pause. he stares wistfully at my glass and i know what he's about to ask.

"how is he?"

of course. i shake my head and he seems to get it. he looks pretty apologetic right now, but i do my best to pretend not to see it. my father had never been one for pity. neither was i.

"i heard you got thrown out the bar again the other day," i try to change the subject, painstakingly aware of how both penny and maverick were looking at me.

it seems to work because penny cracks a smile and maverick's hand shoots up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

"a small miscalculation on my part."

"is that your phone on the bar? do you feel like buying me a round?"

"is that any way to greet your uncle mav?"

i smile. suddenly, i'm eight years old again, my father leading me through the swarm of his old navy buddies to a friend of his. i looked up. he had brown hair and reserved, sad green eyes despite his wide grin. "this is your uncle mav." uncle mav knelt down and kissed the back of my hand, like a knight greeting a princess. "glad to be of service, miss ice princess. anyone in the navy gives you a hard time, i'll give their ass a beating." "you can't talk like that in front of my kid." "oh, shit. well. but she is joining the navy when's she's old enough, right?" "MAV."

"good to see you, uncle mav."

my father always said maverick was the best pilot in the navy. dangerous, my father had quickly put in with a firm tone, but maverick was the best. this i find funny because my father graduated top of his class and maverick came second. maybe maverick was better. i wouldn't know. i hadn't seen them fly when i reached an age old enough to appreciate it.

maverick places his hand on my shoulder, a little awkward like he doesn't really know what to say.

"you should stick around," penny suggests, but it's unclear who she's extending the offer to. she leaves it at that and disappears into the storage room. maverick glances at me and i shrug.

"some of the regulars are pilots who flew the last mission with me. might be nice to get to know them," maverick says, nudging me with his elbow as if that would convince me to meet them. "bradley's with them, if that helps."

"i'm aware. he told me. we talk, you know," i remind him, "'maybe it's a generational thing that you don't get, but we text. and call."

he puts his hands up, "just trying to help."