Tailspin: A Top Gun Love Story

Chapter 11

A/N: I had a wicked hangover this morning so this chapter is pretty fitting.. Enjoy!

.....

"What did Maverick want?" Tom asks when you get home.

You eye at him warily, slipping off your shoes. "He was looking for Goose," you say.

Tom appears unconvinced. "Goose gave me a mixtape."

You press your lips together to hold in a laugh, but a chuckle escapes, nonetheless.

Tom's mouth twists into a small grin. "Yeah, I thought it was funny too."

"We should listen to it," you say as Tom pulls his shirt off and throws it over the back of an armchair.

"Not tonight," he mutters, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.

You walk over to the bed. You're still feeling slightly tipsy, so you collapse onto the mattress and stare up at the ceiling that looks like it's revolving overhead. You've already decided that you will not be meeting Maverick. Not tonight. Not ever.

...

There's a knock on the door around noon the following day. You've been dying slowly on the couch since the morning and you're in no mood – or state – for visitors. You open your eyes, wondering if perhaps you've imagined the sound and, when the persistent rapping resumes, you groan.

Sluggishly, you roll over, using as little energy as possible to stand. Still, by the time you're on your feet, you're out of breath and your heart is hammering like you've just run a relay. You squeeze your head between your hands as the pounding on the door begins to imitate the pounding in your head. Whoever is on the other side of it is dead. You've already decided that this will be their fate.

You shuffle unhurriedly toward the door. Tom wouldn't knock before entering his own apartment, so you know it's not him.

You squint upon opening the door as the sunlight pours into the residence, putting a hand up to shield your eyes. In the gap between your fingers, you can see Maverick's smirk.

"What are you doing here?" you ask weakly.

"Heard you were under the weather," he says.

You sigh, motioning for him to come inside. "It's just a hangover, I'm fine."

"I know," he replies with a mischievous smile and holds up a thermos as he walks past you into the room. "Goose got a little carried away, it seems." He looks like he's struggling to keep a straight face. "He feels terrible," he adds.

You shrug sheepishly. "He wasn't holding me down." Taking the thermos from Maverick, you unscrew the lid and peer inside. You take a whiff. "What is this?" you ask with a grimace.

"Something to settle your stomach," he responds.

"It smells like a salad."

Maverick laughs. "Probably tastes like one too."

You hold a hand to your mouth. "Please don't make me drink this."

Maverick watches you with a sympathetic smile. "It'll be gross but you'll feel much better after, trust me. It's my secret recipe."

"What's in it?"

His smile widens. "If I told you, then it wouldn't be a secret."

You sigh, eyeing the liquid in the thermos suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be at the air station?" You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Goose is sick," he responds. "Can't fly without my RIO."

"Oh no, is he also hungover?"

Maverick nods. "Yeah, he's really outdone himself this time around."