Fox: A TopGun Fanfic

Idiot

I have to refrain from bursting into laughter.

Coyote and Hangman simultaneously freeze, their eyes widening as Captain Maverick makes his way to the front of the group... because he just so happens to be the man they helped throw out of The Harddeck last night.

  He is a shorter man, with dark hair and olive skin. Smile lines etch his face, and faint frown lines make their appearance as-well.
  His eyes are keen and intelligent, as if this is just okay for him. He's seen harder things; we don't even phase him.

  I nudge my friend with my elbow, a smirk on my face. He shifts uncomfortably.

  "Good morning, aviators." Captain Maverick says, his eyes filtering over the small group. I see Hangman give him a curt nod, and Maverick looks amused.

"This—" he says, holding up a massive stack of paper. "- is the manual for the F-18."

I groan almost inaudibly, rubbing my eyes. That single book is a thing of nightmares, resulting in many of my sleepless nights.

"I assume you have it memorized from cover to cover; front too back." He continues.

Echos of affirmation flow through the group.

"Of course."

"Damn right."

"Sure!"

"Yes, sir."

"Damn straight." Coyote says next to me, and I huff, rolling my eyes.

"I call bullshit." I whisper too him, and he elbows me.

  I open my mouth to sass at him, when Maverick tosses the book into the trash next to him. I snort in laughter, smiling at our instructor.

  I like him.

  "Well, so does your enemy." Maverick's eyes meet mine, and I toss him a smile. "The enemy knows the limits of your plane; how fast it can go, how hard and how long it can go; how much fuel it can carry, and how to overpower and destroy it. They knows it's limits."

He smiles challengingly at us.

  "But they don't know yours. They don't know your limits. They don't know how hard you can go, how hard and how long you can go. I'm not sure even you know your own limits.  I, however, am going to find them."

  Everyone is quiet, our breaths silent as they pass our lips.

  "Go get your suits on. First group is in the air in ten. Dismissed."

  "I like him." I say to Coyote and Hangman, pulling my flight suit over my shorts. "He seems cool."

  There is a quiet rumble of conversation in the rooms. Rows of lockers with our call- signs create an isle, with metal bench dividing them. Showers with curtains line the west wall, and toilets are past a door, in the public restrooms; one for women, and one for men.

  "It'll be interesting too see how Rooster, Fanboy, and Payback do."  Coyote says, pausing as he ties his boots to glance at the other aviators in the locker rooms.

  Hangman stands from the bench, glancing at the honey- blonde head of hair not far from us. Rooster looks up, meeting his gaze.

  "Maverick's gonna tear them apart." He remarks simply, grabbing his aviators before striding out of the locker rooms, his helmet swinging at his side.

"Idiot." I murmur.

Coyote looks up at me, chocolate brown eyes reading my face. My stomach flips around, and I look down, my face heating.