Top Gun: You Can Be My Wingman (Maverick X Reader)

Recovery

For the first time in what feels like years, I don't wake to the sharp sting of pain washing over me from my wounds. Instead, I come to feeling rested, only the dull impression of pain left where the overwhelming sensation was before, my bodily aches gone with the wind. Surrounding my body, I feel something soft and comfortable, a contrast to the rough earth I've come to be used to sleeping on, the sinking warmth almost heavenly in comparison.
Confused, I try to crack my eyes open, struggling to push myself into a sitting position until I feel gentle hands on my arms, pushing me back down.
"Hey, don't try to hurt yourself again! You had a pretty rough time." The familiar voice enters my ears, calm and reassuring. Blinking, I locate the source of it, immediately recognising the dark haired pilot sitting to my left. A lazy but relieved smile plasters his lips, his piercing eyes lidded and tired, his hair mussed and messy, but still handsome as ever as he watches me struggle to focus.
"M-Maverick..." I croak out, happily, a smile passing over my face as the realisation of my location finally comes back to me.
Chuckling, he reaches over to rest a large hand on my arm, rubbing gently.
"How many times have I told you to call me Pete?" He grins at me, evidently glad when I return the gesture.
"Sorry." I apologise quietly, allowing my eyes to flick around the room, knowing it is a hospital room. A couple of cards sit on the bedside table to my right, a vase of wilted flowers beside it, the dried petals still holding their vague colours.
"Dont be." Maverick replies, before following my line of sight. "Some of the others brought you those. I think it was Goose, Viper and Hollywood. Even Iceman paid you a visit." He says, almost jealously at the last part. I look back at him, noticing the odd look in his eye as he watches my movements carefully.
"Did anyone say when I can start flying again?" I mumble, my throat sore and dry. Gingerly, I fumble for the glass on the table, knocking some of the cards over in my clumsy state. Reaching over me, Maverick picks it up and hands it to me before continuing.
"They haven't, yet, but we'll need to find you a new RIO before then." His voice becomes quiet towards the end, and I suddenly remember Matthew, lying on the ground with no pulse. A tear rolls down my face at the memory, my mood dampened by it, considerably.
Noticing, Pete moves to cup my face, trying to reassure me.
"Hey, I'm sorry for bringing that up, I know it's a painful subject for you. I know I'd be devastated if something happened to Goose." He sighs, carefully brushing a thumb over my cheek to wipe away the tear, his touch leaving electric pulses in its wake.
"Its fine, I know you didn't mean to." I whisper in response, looking him in the eye. "Where are his dog tags?"
"Err, I think they're over here somewhere. I made sure I kept them for you, seeing as they were hanging beside yours." As he gets up to find them, I place a hand over my chest, feeling the familiar lump of my own identification tags, watching the muscular pilot root around in a bag by the door.
"Here they are!" He says suddenly, turning to me and handing them over.
Remorsefully, I turn them over in my hand, running a finger along the engravings, sadly.  Pete's gaze is almost apologetic as he stares at me, his face filled with sympathy and worry for me, his hand clenching by his side.
"I'm really sorry, (Y/N)." He finally says, quietly.
"Why?" I ask him, frowning in confusion.
Looking down, he replies, his voice catching slightly.
"It was my fault you guys crashed. I flew in front of you and let you get caught in the current, so it's because of me that you almost died and that you lost Arrow."
I scrutinise him closely.
"Come here." My voice surprises him as he looks up, eyes wet and welling with tears. Coming over, he kneels by the bed, conflict in his expression. Reaching a shaking hand over, I cup his face, like he did a moment before.
"It wasn't your fault, and don't let yourself think that. It was nobody's fault that I flew the jet into the current but my own, but I have dealt with the consequences as best I can. Don't beat yourself up over nothing. Besides," I say, smiling gently, "I hate seeing you upset, so be happy that at least someone survived the crash."
Maverick's expression lights up slowly at my words, his muscles straining slightly as he leans in to awkwardly hug me, holding my frail body against his strong chest.
"Thank you, (Y/N)." He hums into my hair.
We stay like this for a few moments, each enjoying the other's proximity and closenes, before pulls away, laying me back down.
"I hate to say it, but I have a training session to get to, so I'll be gone for a couple of hours." The pilot sighs, resignedly. "Keep out of trouble, yeah?" He reaches over to ruffle my hair.
"I should be telling you that, you're not the one confined to a bed!" I laugh, watching him take his leave. "Have fun!" My voice echoes slightly in the now empty room as he steps out, sending one last look my way.
I grin and wave him off as best I can.
It's good to be back, even if I am stuck in hospital.