Never Yours

Shower bros

'Two bros, chilling in the hot tub, five feet apart cos they're not gay!' A/N: sorry for this quote thing I included this because I thought it's quite funny and fits this scene really well. Again, my apologies! XD

Maverick's POV:

I CHARGED into the locker room and threw my things back into my locker. I didn't care that they were balled up and messy, I was angry at myself and wasn't willing to take on other things apart from my performance review. Grabbing my towel and shower gel, I pushed my way through the corridor and toward the stairs (I wasn't in the mood to explain things to Iceman again so I felt this was the best and saftest option). Stomping up them all the way to the fourth floor, I marched to the shower room being extra careful not to slip on the tiled, slippery floor. Unzipping my flight suit, I hung it on a peg on the wall, then I proceeded to remove my top. Stepping into the shower, I locked the door and allowed the cold water to wash away my dirt and sweat.

I was alone for the time being so I let the shampoo and body wash soak in before washing it off, standing in the cold shower, mulling over today's decisions for longer than I should of done perhaps. From behind the door, I heard the low rumble of chatter and footsteps which signified that more people had finished their hops and were coming to shower. Deciding I'd had long enough (if not, too long) in the shower, I switched the water off and pulled my towel off the top of the door, wrapping it round me before opening up the door and slowly walking out. Leaning against a pillar, I rubbed my eyes and sighed only being brought back down to Earth when Jester waltzed on in like it was nothing and started talking to me about my flying.

"THAT, was some of the best flying I've seen yet." He paused to draw a breath. "Right up until the part where you left your wingman of course. You never, never leave your wingman!" Jester stated, somewhat disappointedly. I nodded in acknowledgment.

"Thank you Sir." I mumbled. He gave me a wry smile before turning on his heel and walking away, down the long, busy corridor, presumably to the staff quarters. To the right of me, Slider (unusually, no Iceman tailing him), appeared and proceed to knock on the door of one of the shower cubicles.

"You got 30 seconds Wolfman and I'm coming in!" He warned. To Wolfman's defence, he hasn't been in there all that long (not nearly as I long as I had previously been) and that echoed in his response.

"SHUT UP, BUTT NOSE!" He yelled back, angrily. Ordinarily, I would of smirked and struggled to contain my laughter but now just didn't feel like the right occasion nor mood. People filtered in and out, and the room slowly began to empty of pilots all together, the only ones left being me and Goose who'd just gotten into the shower (he'd hung back for a while talking to some other RIOs and instructors of the like). I stepped away from the pillar and sat on the nearby bench, staring at the floor; the cold chain of my dog tags pressed firmly against my warm skin and rapidly beating heart.

"It's not your flying; it's your attitude."

My head snapped up and a horrified expression plastered itself across my tanned features. "Yeah, and why's that your concern Kazansky?" I seethed. He ignored me and continued on.

"You may not like the guys flying with you and they might not like you but at the end of the day, we're all a team. So, whose side are you really on Mitchell?" He goaded.

"Your Mum's." I replied sarcastically (and a little childishly), gaining a chuckle from some other pilots in the room. Iceman stood there, leaning up against the pillar for a while (bare toned chest glistening with water, visible for all to see) staring me down before a low huff left his lips.

"My God Mitchell, you really are something else." He uttered before walking away, Slider jumping up from the bench beside me, eager to follow him like a lost puppy.

I paid no mind to his previous statement for it meant little to me. Just another pointless and pitiful insult to come from him. Not the first time. He felt threatened by my capabilities and my ability to naturally impress people. I understood that (to a certain extent) but some part of me couldn't help but wonder if it was meant as something more...

But that simply couldn't be right. I was most likely overthinking due to my disappointment in myself and my general drowsiness. I'm fairly sure everything was normal. And when I say that I'm pretty certain as I'm usually a good judge of character; it's one of the things I consider to be very important about myself.

But let me just stress this again;

Usually...

"Well, at least Viper got Iceman before he got us." Goose commented, trying to put a positive spin on the situation which henceforth, snapped me out of my overthinking, kerfuffled mess of a thought. Or trance rather, I should say.

"That was stupid. I know better than that." I stated, aggressively. "It'll never happen again." I mumbled the last part more to myself than anyone else but Goose heard.

"I know." He said.

"Ay?" I asked, confused.

"I know it won't." He gave me a wry smile (which felt a little patronising I have to admit) and a small pat on the shoulder before he wondered off. I leant my head against the wall and let out a long, low sigh.

•TIME SKIP TO NIGHTTIME•

THAT NIGHT I lay awake, with my bedside lamp on, staring mindlessly at an old Polaroid photo of me and my Dad that had been taken when I was about six and I couldn't help but think how I'd let him down. But not only him; Goose as well. My eyes briefly wondered over to the clock only to be met with the ominous hands displaying that of the hour; ten o'clock. Placing the picture back into my wallet, I pulled the duvet over me and switched out the light, drifting off to sleep in a pool of tears, regret and anxiety.

There was always someone I thought I'd let down.

And I hated that. I hadn't and I knew I hadn't but it was just the reality of everything and the very small margin for mistakes and errors. I often thought to myself: hey maybe you're in the wrong career? But then I counteract that with my love for fighter aircraft and my job so I don't know.

I really don't anymore.

Believe it or not, even the strongest of people get lost when the world's too loud.

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Word Count: 1168