Top Gun Oneshots

Don't Lie To Me - Maverick

They're together again. As close as ever, shoulders nearly touching as they sit across from Wolfman and I, faces beaming with broad smiles as always, clearly happy as Larry, neither of them noticing my slight discomfort, my gaze swiftly averting from his handsome face. Maverick eyes me briefly, taking note of my suddenly quiet disposition, offering me a smaller smile than the one he was carrying before, Charlie following his gaze, smirking as she sees me, the gesture stirring up a mixture of jealousy and longing within me. As usual, Wolfman continues the conversation without me, already aware of my discomfort and situation, trying to make this as easy for me as possible by taking their attention away from each other, allowing me to fight the internal conflict raging inside me in silence, my mood becoming more and more sour as the minutes pass.

"I heard we have another mission later? Have any information for us, Charlie?" The man beside me inquires, setting down his fork and sitting forward in his chair.

"I don't, I'm not at liberty to say anything." She denies, smiling apologetically around at us.

"What, is it classified?" Maverick teases, his tone striking a chord inside me - he used to tease me in that voice, but lately he's stopped. Probably due to his newfound relationship with our civilian officer, the thought of which makes me tense up, inadvertently tightening my grip on my fork.

"Correct." Charlie grins back, eyes sparkling cheerfully as they stare at each other, completely ignoring Wolfman and me in particular.

Biting my lip, I shove my chair out from under the table and stand, muttering some barely audible excuse as I take my plate to the clearing station, aggressively emptying all the leftovers into the bin before replacing the cutlery and plate in the tray nearby. I leave the room very quickly afterwards, nearly bumping into Viper as he goes to enter the dining hall, a hurried apology leaving me as I salute him and carry on down the corridor, my feet director themselves to my room. On my way, I encounter a few other commanders and senior officers, saluting them all as they pass, trying not to let my emotions show, though they are doing their best to reveal themselves. Upon arriving at the door to my room, I unlock it and let myself in, going straight to the vanity table, where I lean my hands on it, peering into the mirror.

I'm not surprised to see that my face is contorted into some weird grimace, clearly showing the struggle to repress the raging emotions within me, sweat coating my forehead in a glossy sheen. Lifting a hand, I swipe some of it away, wiping the moisture onto the fabric of my trousers, my eyes falling on a Polaroid on the top of the desk, the familiar photograph portraying Maverick and I on our first day out of pilot school, back when our friendship was very much platonic. Slowly, I pick it up, running a thumb over the creased surface, smiling slightly at our excited expressions, remembering the day in perfect clarity.

A sharp knock on the door snaps me from my thoughts.

Spinning, I smooth out my hair and go to it, opening it to whoever is standing outside, my heart dropping when I see who it is, my expression probably falling, too.

"Can I help you?" I ask, keeping my voice level as I look up at Maverick, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as they always do when I lay eyes on him. I try to ignore them as best I can.

"Yeah, I want to talk to you. Can I come in?" The pilot informs me, normally confident demeanour faltering slightly.

"I guess." I respond flatly, allowing him in. Instead of sitting on the chair he usually takes, Maverick chooses to stand, keeping his eyes trained on me as I close the door and stand with my back to it, looking anywhere but at him. For a good few minutes, we're silent, as if searching for something to talk about, the tension thick enough that it's nearly suffocating.