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

Patrol.

"You see anything, Hawk?" I ask the RIO, my voice tired and bored after spending hours in the stuffy cockpit, sweat coating my brow from the perpetual heat inside my helmet.

"No, I can't see anything. The sky is clear for now." He replies, craning his neck to check around us, hands pressing against the cockpit shell for extra leverage. Sighing, I check the radar, taking note of the lack of dots on the green screen, my grip on the joystick loosening as I leave the jet to travel in a mostly straight path.

"Damn, this is dull today." I comment idly, cracking my neck loudly, the muscles in the rest of my body aching to be stretched out, my legs in particular.

"Yeah, but I guess it can't all be fun and games."

"True. I just wish these patrols weren't so long."

"Me too, my back is killing me."

At this, I chuckle a little, empathising with this sentiment as my own back smarts from the lack of movement, the seat uncomfortable beneath me. At my shoulders, the straps begin to feel a little too tight, the fabric cutting into my circulation as I reach up to loosen them slightly, wriggling my fingers and circling my wrist to stretch out some of the muscles in them. Returning my hand to the joystick, I slowly steer the plane around into an arc, the pressure pressing me into my chair as we pull out of it again, angling onto a different path.

"Hey, I think I can see something." Hawk suddenly pipes up after a couple of minutes of listening to the engines roaring around us, voice unsure.

"Let me check the radar. Where can you see it?" I respond, flicking my gaze down to the screen.

"North-west of here."

Sure enough, the radar shows a slowly approaching dot, the aircraft flying just a little way away from us.

"Contact base and ask if we should check it out. I'll stay out of their range until we have permission." I tell him, swiftly rolling the plane into a tighter turn, aiming to stay just behind the other aircraft's range.

"Sure thing." Hawk responds, quickly contacting the carrier and doing as I say. In seconds, the crackling voice comes through.

"We're not expecting visitors, so you have permission to check it out. Do not engage unless they do first."

"Copy." I bark back at them, increasing the speed of the jet, entering the firing range of the bogey ahead of us, the dark spot just becoming visible at the front of the cockpit.

"We sure there's only one?" I question Hawk, listening to him scuffle around in the back, trying his hardest to spot if there's any others.

"I can't see any around us, check the radar." Comes the reply.

Briefly, I do so, taking note of the otherwise empty screen.

"That's the only one on the radar." I confirm, readying the missiles in case they're needed.

As the bogey catches sight of us, the pilot throws their aircraft into a series of twists and turns, which I follow in accordance, being careful not to appear threatening to them. For a couple of minutes, we pursue the bogey around each spiral, dive and climb, the chase becoming tiresome quickly, the enemy aircraft showing no signs of attacking.

"What're they doing?" Hawk muses behind me, looking over my shoulder at the manoeuvring jet ahead, the frown evident in his voice.

"I don't know, but its weirding me out a bit." I call back to him, my brow furrowed as I follow the bogey on yet another steep ascent.

"Quicksilver, Hawk, what is taking so long? Are they hostile or not?" At the sudden interruption, I start a bit, before swiftly answering their call.