AIM HIGH- Fly, Fight, Win.[ Maverick x Reader]

Chapter Seven: Army Vs Navy

"Kill me now..." I muttered as I walked into the Joint Base Charlie - or commonly known as JBC's - air hanger. The amount of plane parts and other doohickeys thrown about the place was eye scorching.

"Well, Y/n this is what you get for following orders..." You mutter to yourself, walking past a torn apart F-14 and frame parts of a C-17.

Then your eyes laid upon a sheet covering a giant object; catching your attention enough to spark curiosity inside you.

You put your drink that you had in your hand on the ground, grabbing the thick cloth with both hands and pulling.

Eventually, the sunlight from the windows shined on a F-22 Raptor; minus the fact it's missing it's left landing wheel and it's windvisor is cracked.

"it's been a minute, huh...." You whispered. You placed a hand on the bottom latches along its 'stomach', feeling the cold metal against your already freezing fingers.

You walked around the plane, keeping your hand along its cold metal frame. You glanced around, trying to see any sort of connection to a base or any number to link to a pilot of some sort.

You didn't see anything on the tail, guessing this was probably the old prototype that the Navy must've snatched from the Air Force's air deck.

"You like what you see?"

An older, more mature voice sounded throughout the room. It echoed from the entrance, and when you looked around the nose of the F-22 you saw a young man with black hair standing with his arms crossed on top of the frame you saw earlier.

"I do." You responded, noticing the unpleasant echo of your voice in the room. You heard footsteps and could see the man walking closer to you. "I started working on her with my old buddy - it's been a couple years since she's flown."

"Where did you get this?" You asked, getting a closer look at the man. He has dark brown, almost jet black hair, seemingly sweaty from the humidity outside. He was wearing sunglasses to cover his eyes, and he had dimples whenever he talked. He was wearing a dark green pilot uniform, zipping up to his chest. He seemed to be about six foot something tall, a few inches past your eyes.

"I was in Afghanistan when I saw the frame parts and the main engine lying there beside the airship." He said with a grin, small lines under his eyes forming as his lips raised. "Figured I could use a new project while I wasn't out on duty."

"So you stole an F-22 frame from enemy territory?" You asked, raising your eyebrow at this. Who is this guy, and why is he telling me about this?

He winced. "I wouldn't put it like that."  He laughed as though a joke had been said. "Makes me sound like a thief."

"Sounds like you are." You snicker.

The man had cocked his head in a mocking manner, grinning at your response. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Y/n Manley, part of Airborne Unit NC-20065." You replied. "You, Captain?"

His right eyebrow raised. "Pete Maverick Mitchell. Captain of the US Navy and the fastest, handsomest man you've ever seen."

"Fastest, huh?" You checked the time on your watch, looking back up at Pete. "I don't believe you."

"Huh?" Pete said audibly. "You don't believe me?"

"Nope."

"How so?" He said.

"Cause there's nobody faster than the speed of light." You grinned, looking him up and down with sass. "I, however, am second in that line."

"Is that so?" Maverick asked, copying my own movements.

"Indeed."

"I don't believe you."

You looked at him dumbfounded, earning a snicker from the man. "Tell you what..." Maverick said, leaning with one hand on the plane to lean next to you. "Tomorrow morning, at 0800 sharp, F-18's," He looked at me with determination. "You," His finger followed his words, pointing dead at my chest. "me," he said, pointing to himself. "First one to reach Mock 9 before our dead point wins. We'll really see who's quickest then."

"Is that a challenge?" You asked, looking up to meet his face. His hand raised up to his face, a single finger pulling down the sunglasses covering his eyes. "Only if you take is as one."

His eyes were a deep blue and green, standing out from the rest of his appearance. His black eyebrows and eyelashes looked much like his own hair- wet.

"Let's throw some sweat into the game." Maverick said, running a hand through his hair. "You win, I'll do one thing you want me to do. I win, I get to take you on a date." You blinked a few times, trying to recall what he had just said.  A DATE?

His eyes had met yours, and for the first time you saw something that reminded you of something, but you couldn't figure out what it was. Is this a game to him - or is he serious?

From the way he's been talking, it seemed like All of the Above would be the right answer.

"Alright then, Maverick." You said, maintaining eye contact with him. "You've got a challenger." The corners of his lips raised up into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours. He reached his hand out, and you shook it. His hands were rough from work, yours not far from it. He held a good grip in his hands, shaking firmly before letting go.

"Great!" He said enthusiastically, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose and running a hand through his hair. "You can start helping me get that tarp back on." He said, pointing to the floor. You rolled your eyes at this, but walked over and grabbed the edge of the tarp.

One things for sure - you were going to beat Maverick at his little game.

If it's the last thing you do.

....

Hey bookies - I know it's been a minute since I've updated (sorry M <3 ) but there will be more soon!✨🥳