Prompt: Nightmare
Title: A Promise
Fandom: Top Gun (1986)
Warnings: Mentions of death, loss, grief, vivid nightmares.
Word Count: 2,372
Author's Note: I literally made myself cry while writing this - hence why it may struggle in some spots. Do you know how hard it is to type with a blurry gaze? Also: have a listen to Memories by Harold Faltermeyer from the original soundtrack. It's a masterpiece and brings all the feels.
Synopsis: After a close call during a training flight, RIO Y/N L/N finds herself inviting her longtime friend and now pilot over for dinner, having heard and now witnessed her friend's evidently suffering state. Will she finally come to realize just how much the one they call Maverick has been suffering since the loss of his dearest friend?
----
A Promise
You'd heard what had happened.
You knew right well that things might be rocky with your new assignment and the pilot you're now flying with.
But not this rocky.
"Mav! You can drop down and take the shot! It's wide open!" You practically scream at the pilot sitting in front of you, his gaze darting to yours in the right hand mirror, a rather haunted glimmer in his usually determinedly optimistic gaze.
"It's no good," He states firmly, his tone drifting into a mumble. "It's no good."
All you can do is watch as the F-14 you're sitting in begins to bank hard right, away from the other, smaller jet you'd been after as a training exercise - those have been far more routine since the ever looming threat of the Soviet Union throughout this prolonged period of utterly Cold War.
But almost instantly, a panic overtakes you.
Twister was on our wing.
"What the hell are you doing, Mav?!" An utterly bewildered and alarmed tone sounds from your wingman, who's canopy is quickly getting closer and closer to your widened eyes.
"Shit!"
And in a heartbeat, you're slammed against the back of your seat as the fighter goes vertical, gaining altitude up and away from where you'd been, mere seconds away from a collision.
Silence.
Utter silence as you sit there, the crisis narrowly averted.
All you can hear is the constant, steadily slowing down heartbeat pounding the blood in your ears, adrenaline thrumming through your body.
You're utterly shocked.
Maverick nearly got the both of you, and your wingman, dead.
Taking a deep inhale of the crisp oxygen your mask provides before exhaling it heavily, you lean forward in your seat, peering at the man in front of you through the mirrors mounted above and on either side of him.
"You good, Mav?"
It had been a stupid question.
And as you sigh heavily, gaze surveying the bleak looking skies now above you, your feet now back on the ground, a pang of sorrow ripples through you.
The pilot had practically jumped out of his seat the minute he had touched down and taxied to your Tomcat's designated spot, the label once bearing a different name ever so evident on the side of the sleek gray body outside of where you sat.
His darkly sunglassed gaze, frantic movements and disregard for your presence were all telltale signs of what Pete "Maverick" Mitchell was feeling in that moment.
But when you'd practically sprinted after him down the tarmac, your helmet clipped to your side bouncing against your leg, you'd been surprised to see a stray tear roll down from behind his masked eyes.
"Pete," You'd began, compassion yet a sternness in your tone as you'd both come to a halt, standing in front of one another, the other pilots that had been out wordlessly passing the pair of you by.
Words had escaped you in that moment, and as you'd scrambled, you'd found yourself offering the evidently broken man in front of you a chance to get out for a bit... for dinner.
"I have a friend who's away for a month or two," You'd explained, the pilot's head tilted slightly as if to show his intrigue. "I've been staying there when I haven't felt like staying on Base... Why don't you come over and we'll have dinner? Tonight at six?"
You could've sworn you'd saw Maverick's usual charisma almost instantly flood back into his system as your words had dawned on him and the pair of you parted ways, agreeing on six o'clock.
Which is quickly approaching.
Smoothing out the pair of jeans you wear, double checking the small spread you'd prepared at the apartment's small dining room table, you sigh, attempting to gain your composure.
See, you've almost always had your eye on Pete.
Ever since Flight School, really.
And when you'd heard the news about Nick...
Your instinct was to run to the person you know for a fact would be suffering beyond words immeasurable and do everything in your power to keep him hanging on.
But yet, Pete Mitchell had practically ignored you, only communicating with you when necessary.
Until now.
A rather soft, intelligent sounding knock against the wooden door startles you from your thoughts, a certain crimson dusting your cheeks in realization.
Rushing towards the door, you fling it open to reveal a rather worn out yet slightly optimistic looking Maverick.
Donning his usual bomber jacket and a plain white t-shirt, you inwardly smile at his attempt to pull himself together, his hair evidently having had a comb ran through it.
"Hey," He greets with an uncharacteristical grin tugging merely at the edges of his lips as he steps past you and the door you hold open. "This is quite the place."
"It is," You agree, shutting the door behind you, your gaze swiveling to the man in front of you, surveying the quaint apartment. "It's small and sorta outdated, but it does the job to get away from Base for a day or so."
"Yeah..." The pilot trails off, almost becoming lost in his thoughts as you usher him towards the table, the both of you taking a seat.
And as you crack open the bottle of wine you'd been saving for some occasion like this, you offer a smile, pouring two glasses.
"Here's to a break."
****
And a break from the hubbub of the usual routine it was.
The pair of you had spent the evening chatting, playing the odd card game...
But now, you're simply laying on the couch watching and listening to whatever's on TV at the moment, a comfortable silence settling.
Steady and gentle hands toy with the ends of your hair, something you'd usually find utterly annoying, but for this, you make an exception.
After all Pete Mitchell has been through over the last few months, and even today alone; if he wants to play with your hair, so be it.
Your head rests upon his thighs, your gaze looking up at him as he absentmindedly watches the grainy screen in front of the pair of you, though his attention seems to be elsewhere.
"I should get going," He mumbles, switching his gaze from the TV, down to you, a certain glimmer in his gaze. "I've got some things I've got to-"
You quickly cut the pilot's sentence short, raising your hand up towards him and softly pressing a finger to his lips.
"Stay?" You practically breathe, your tone thick in question and a certain desperation.
You've heard rumors that Maverick hasn't been sleeping right since the accident - now's your chance to confirm your suspicions and ease him into getting some evidently well needed rest, especially after today's close call.
Pete's eyes are glistening with a glimmer of something you can't quite make out as he simply holds your own gaze, his thoughts clearly moving a mile a minute.
But then, he huffs a chuckle, sorrow and disbelief ever so evident, gaze falling from yours.
"Y'know, I-"
His voice cracks as he looks at you once more, biting back a sudden wave of emotion.
And you don't need him to say anything.
You can tell right-well he's been beyond lonely.
And now...
You've given him a chance to not be alone for a night.
"C'mon," You urge, voice barely louder than a whisper as you make your way to your feet, extending a hand down towards your Partner, which he silently takes.
Leading the pair of you to the only bedroom this apartment has to offer, you leave him at one side of the bed while you round the other, rummaging through the rather empty dresser drawers for the sweatpants and t-shirt you know for a fact you'd put here last week.
"There's the pants," You mumble in annoyance, pulling out yet another drawer, only to close it in frustration. "Where the hell is the shirt I put here?"
Huffing, you shake your head with a sigh, turning around to face the man you'd left at your back only to be sent reeling as something makes contact with your face.
Letting out a yelp of surprise, you hastily pick up the item off the floor and begin to unroll it...
"Really, Pete?"
A blush dusts your cheeks as you allow your gaze to wander up his now ever so evidently well defined physique, the shirt he'd previously been wearing now in your grasp.
"You said you needed a shirt so I solved the problem," He grins, a momentary gleam of playfulness igniting in his gaze.
And all you can do is offer a grin of thanks in return as you hurry to the bathroom to get changed, only to stumble back out into a dimly lit room, the lights that had been on no longer providing light.
A familiar figure lays on the opposite side of the bed from where you stand, the steady rise and fall of his chest earning an inward smile from you.
"You invited me to stay," A clearly tired sounding Pete calls from beneath the blankets as he rolls on his side to face where you stand, a cheeky grin falling onto his features that warms your heart and allows a blush to dance across your cheeks. "So are you gonna join me or what?"
Grinning through the dimly lit darkness, you pull back the covers and slide in, turning off the bedside lamp in the process, bathing the bedroom in utter darkness, now.
And before you can protest, the feeling of a set of strong arms pulling you towards him resonates with you, your slightly smaller figure being held tightly against his chest.
"Get some rest, Pete," You mumble against him, your head finding a resting spot towards his shoulder. "You're exhausted."
You can swear you hear a soft, "Yeah," fall from his lips before you both are dragged down by the hands of sleep, your mingled breaths and heartbeats the only sounds keeping you company.
****
"Goose! Oh, no! Oh God, no!"
A cry of utter sorrow, panic and desperation pierces through the silence that had enveloped the pair of you.
The man that once lay at your side is now sitting completely upright, shaky, ragged breaths escaping his trembling figure.
You're quick to come to, his sudden yell having almost startled you as equally as you pull yourself to a sitting position, silently watching for a moment before saying anything.
Pete "Maverick" Mitchell is hunched over, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as choked back sobs wrack through his frame.
Wordlessly, the broken pilot hauls himself out of bed and wanders towards the bathroom, flicking on the light, the sound of running water meeting your ears as you follow behind, your heart shattering into a million pieces.
The rumors had been true.
The usually charismatic, cocky and egotistical pilot you'd always known and grown to love over the years is suffering, plagued with nightmares of the past.
Has been.
In utter silence.
Since day one.
"Pete," You breathe as you near where he stands, hunched over the sink, cold water running over his hands and the washcloth he holds loosely in his grasp.
Watery, red eyes flick up to meet yours in the mirror, a ragged breath escaping him as his lip trembles.
And in that moment, words escape you yet again, as you give into instinct, wrapping your arms around his slightly sweaty torso and pulling him into an embrace, your own tears threatening to spill over as Maverick leans into your touch.
Almost as if his life depends on it.
"I can't believe he's gone," Pete rasps, shutting off the water and dropping the cloth into the sink before turning to face you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you hug him tighter, wordlessly urging him on. "I just want him back so... badly."
There's a certain desperation in his tone that finally breaks you, your own tears running down your cheeks.
You know you should be the strong one right now.
You should be the one comforting him.
But maybe, in this moment, it's best that you both see each other at your lowest lows.
"I know you do," You reply, your tone wavering with choked back sobs. "And so do I."
Pete steps away from your embrace for a moment, running a trembling hand through his hair, matted with sweat and water.
"I was hoping by spending the night here, with you, I wouldn't have the nightmares... That I could actually get some sleep for once..." He explains, a genuine wanting in his tone, teary eyes meeting yours. "But I guess it doesn't matter what I do..."
"Because deep down, you still feel responsible," You finish for him, a desperate look of realization at being understood falling across the pilot's features, his eyes widening slightly as he just nods.
Offering a small smile, you step towards your Partner once more, setting a reassuring hand upon his shoulder, your gazes locking.
"It wasn't your fault, Pete. I saw the evidence, heard the same verdict as you..."
You allow your wavering tone to trail off, a bittersweet smile tugging at the edges of your lips.
"But I know none of that matters to you - I know it's hard... But I want you to know that I'm here, no matter what."
At this, the man in front of you frowns, gaze falling from yours.
"I nearly got us both killed today, Y/N... All because I wasn't paying close enough attention to the whole picture... and the truth is... I'm exhausted," Pete sighs heavily, a tear slipping down his cheek which you swipe away with your thumb. "Exhausted of being exhausted..."
Now it's your turn to frown, though a grin quickly tugs at your lips.
"Well," You muse softly, wiping away yet another tear and cupping his cheek. "I'm here no matter how many of these late night conversations we have to have, Pete Mitchell. I'm not going anywhere - that's a promise."
Wordlessly, your Partner simply melts into your open arms, leaning closer to you as you run a hand through his hair, finding a final resting place on the small of his back.
"Thank you..."
"You're welcome, Pete... you're welcome..."