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The road stretched out, smooth and quiet, hugging the beach where waves broke dark and shimmery in the moonlight. Midnight cool and tangy with brine, the ocean breeze rushed in through the open car windows, chilling Sunny’s bare forearms. To his left sat Chipper, both hands on the wheel, eyes fixed dead ahead.
They hadn’t said a word in the three hours since leaving base housing, but Sunny knew better than to ask where they were going.
Chipper got that way sometimes. Quiet. Restless. Like he was trying to outrun an itch so deep he could tear off his skin and still never reach it.
If they were stationed on a carrier he’d disappear from his bunk, tucking himself away in whatever privacy the shadows allowed to stare out over the wake cutting through an ever shifting ocean. If they were on land, he’d drive, hours and hours with no direction, no goal beyond forward motion.
Sometimes he asked Sunny if he wanted to come, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes Sunny offered, sometimes Chipper said yes. Tonight he’d said yes. Well, shrugged, but Sunny took it to mean much the same.
There was usually a trigger. Bad news from home, a break up, a close call.
Sunny didn’t need to wonder what it was this time.
Goose's death had shaken all of them.
He remembered, viscerally, the mood of the room four days ago, the Top Gun class crowding close to the tinny crackle of the radio for the long awaited - and generously bet upon - Maverick and Iceman team up. Listening as Maverick and Goose’s voices went from frustrated to frantic as they lost control of the F-14; the sudden silence of the room turning into something tense at Ice’s clipped mayday; Maverick shouting eject, eject, eject!
Search and rescue had left by the time Viper returned to dismiss them. He hadn’t looked surprised when none of them made any move to go.
It wasn’t until the helicopter landed that they knew, staring out the classroom window onto the tarmac as a black bodybag was carried out on a stretcher. There was a moment of horrified uncertainty before Mav stumbled out after it, then promptly collapsed. Even from a distance it had been clear he was crying, sobbing, whole body shaking with it.
Most of them turned away then, whether to afford their fellow pilot a little privacy, or to spare themselves the discomfort of watching a man fall apart completely. All of them except Ice, a grim expression pulling at his sharp features in a way Sunny could never hope to decode.
Viper gave them two days, then they were back flying by Friday morning. If anyone was surprised to see Maverick, slumped low in his chair at the back of the classroom, no one said so. Or at least nowhere he could hear them. The murmured apologies as everyone passed him to reach their own seats had gotten too much for even Sunny to bear.
The news that Mav had been absolved by the Board snuffed most of the crueller whispers, but Sunny still found himself one the the few who agreed to fill Maverick’s backseat. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, even if it, or rather Maverick, had blown up in his face in the end.
Because despite Maverick not being Sunny’s favourite person, he knew as well as anyone what grief could do. How it could shift like tectonic plates beneath a person's skin, forcing those ugly feelings to the surface in a jagged ridgeline, so tall it blocked out the sun. Holding a grudge against Maverick, so torn up as he was, would be like blaming a flame for dying in a downpour. Sunny was not so irrational.
The streetlights started to slide past more frequently as they re-entered the outskirts of town, and the ocean disappeared briefly behind the forested jut of the cape.
That’s when Sunny saw them, a lone figure on the roadside, heading in the same direction.
They were still well beyond walking distance from anywhere someone might reasonably spend a Saturday night that bled into Sunday morning. Even the houses were few and far between, each one dark beyond the drawn curtains.
They rolled up beside the stranger just as he was entering the spotlight glow of the next streetlight.
Or maybe not a stranger.
“Maverick?” The surprise in Sunny’s tone turned the word almost accusatory.
Maverick startled, like he hadn’t even heard them approach, which was concerning in and of itself. He whipped his head around to face them and Sunny’s stomach did something strange and unpleasant.
Blood, almost black in the harsh lighting, streaked across his face and darkened his lips. His cheek was marred with a cut high on the bone, from a ring maybe. Now that they were close enough, Sunny noticed the limp, like each step wasn’t a decision he made lightly, mechanical and forced.
“The hell are you guys doing here?” he snapped defensively.
“You first.” Sunny mirrored his tone.
Maverick didn’t reply, just turned away and kept walking.
Chipper matched his speed and Maverick cursed under his breath when it became clear they weren’t going anywhere. “What?” He sounded far too resigned, incongruous with the arrogant man they’d all met six weeks ago.
Sunny jumped a little at the sound of Chipper’s voice, joining the conversation before Sunny could say something tactless.
“Do you need a ride?” His voice was hoarse from disuse, but the genuine concern was audible beneath the far off quality. Chipper had always been the softer of the two of them, a gentleness that came with having three little sisters no doubt.
Maverick’s pace faltered, clearly taken off guard by the offer. As if he’d expected them to speed off by now, maybe do a couple donuts around him while they were at it, and leave him out in the middle of nowhere. “Uh. Yeah, thanks.”
Chipper graciously brought the car to a complete stop long enough for Maverick to take the backseat. Maverick made no comment about the open windows or the silence as they picked up speed, just crossed his arms and buried his chin in his jacket. For the rest of the drive Sunny felt the irrational urge to glance over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure he hadn’t disappeared.
Chipper pulled into their driveway half an hour later. Sunny watched Maverick blink rapidly in the revision mirror then frown.
“This isn’t my house,” he said dully, like the observation barely meant anything to him.
Sunny glanced at Chipper who was still gripping the steering wheel, a perfect ten and two, eyes staring ahead blankly once again. Right. It was fucking Day of the Dead in here.
He reached over and undid his pilot's seatbelt, hoping to encourage a little life back into him, then turned to Maverick. “I sure hope not, considering we live here.” Sunny undid his own seatbelt and made to exit the vehicle, “C’mon, we’ve got a first aid kit inside.”
Maverick followed his direction with an obedience that Sunny was neither expecting nor comfortable with. He stood patiently off to the side as Sunny coaxed Chipper out of the car then led the three of them inside.
Like herding cats, Sunny managed to get them both situated on the couch, side by side and functionally useless. He retreated further into the house to rummage through the cupboard beneath the sink.
The compact zip up kit was tucked behind the small collection of cleaning products that had been there since they’d arrived. He extracted it with a careful manoeuvre, set it on the vanity then reached for the hand towel. Turning on the tap he waited for the water to warm, hands braced against the white porcelain as he stared himself down in the mirror.
Sunny wouldn’t describe himself as caring, he doubted many would. That wasn’t to say he was unkind, because he wasn’t. He had empathy, he knew when a guy needed a distraction or just a bit of time alone, and he knew how to grant both.
But this, the whole ‘looking after people’ thing, he didn’t do. Not for anyone other than Chipper at least. But Chipper was different, he was Sunny’s pilot, the care there went both ways, balancing out. Like Sunny covering for Chipper when he got quiet, whether that be actively inserting himself into conversations when things got too much, or just joining his pilot in his silence, sharing space and nothing more. Like Chipper smoothing things over when someone took offence at Sunny’s words, whether he’d meant it or whether he simply couldn’t be bothered correcting himself, Chipper was there with his soft voice and easy grin.
Chipper would know what to do with Maverick. Unfortunately, Chipper wasn’t doing much better.
Sunny tried not to work himself up as he soaked the towel in the warm water and rung it out with so much aggression he had to wet it again.
The two pilots were exactly where he’d left them when he returned to the living room. They’d shifted slightly, now leaning into each other, Chipper’s head resting on Maverick’s shoulder. Neither of them were or would ever be what Sunny called large, and seeing them curled up such as they were didn’t do them any favours.
Maverick’s eyes tracked Sunny’s movement as he came to sit on the coffee table in front of them. Chipper’s did not.
Sunny had to lean in to reach Maverick’s face with the wet towel, but asking him to move felt wrong. The blood came away easy enough and Maverick only winced a little when Sunny ran an alcohol wipe over the cut on his cheek.
“Which foot,” Sunny asked him, drawing back and setting aside his cloth.
Maverick wet his lips. “Left.”
Sunny nodded and, with Maverick’s help, brought the foot up to rest on his knee. With steady hands, Sunny eased the boot and sock off, holding in the urge to poke fun at the fashion choice. Maverick watched him examine the ankle, fingers palpating the slight swelling.
“How’d you do it?” Sunny asked, only half expecting an answer.
“Fell,” Maverick said, only half giving one.
Sunny hummed. “Looks sprained.”
“Hm.”
He dug a pressure bandage out from the bottom of the first aid kit and began wrapping the joint, starting at the foot and working his way up. By the time he was finished there was far more awareness behind the green of Maverick’s eyes. Sunny hoped he didn’t look embarrassingly relieved.
“Hey man, you back?” he teased lightly.
“Guess so,” Maverick muttered, then tensed. His eyes flicked to Chipper like he’d only just realised there was a whole person leaning against him. “Uh, is he good?”
“Yeah, he’s good.” Sunny couldn’t help the challenge that slipped into his voice, but Maverick just shrugged his unoccupied shoulder and relaxed again. “So.” Sunny started to repack the kit around the limb still in his lap. “Gonna tell us what happened?”
“Not much to tell,” Maverick said and sounded like he meant it.
Sunny gave him a hard stare. “We found you on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere-”
“It was not the middle of nowhere-”
“-beat to hell-”
“I was not beat to-”
“Stop interrupting!” Sunny snapped, then shot Chipper a cautious look, lowering his voice to an irritated hiss. “You’re acting like you’re fine when we both know you’re not fucking fine. Don’t try that shit with me like I’m stupid or something.”
Maverick glared at him, mouth twisting into something unpleasant. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
Sunny hadn’t been expecting that. “Maverick-”
“No, Williams, why wouldn’t I be fine?” He kept his voice even, quiet so as not to disturb Chipper, but Sunny felt the undercurrent of vitriol land like a punch. “Because the Board of Inquiry said it wasn’t my fault which makes it perfectly fine, right? Viper sure seems to think so. I’ve just gotta let him go, don’t I? Just let him go, Mitchell.” Maverick’s voice had started to shake. Sunny felt sick. “Let him go, there’ll be others, Mitchell. You’ll kill plenty more RIOs the way you killed G-” he choked on Goose’s call sign, lip trembling before he trapped it harshly between his teeth, grief and anger rolling off him in waves.
He turned his face away like Sunny couldn’t still see the tears starting to trace lines down his bruised cheek.
Sunny sat there, still with indecision, tense with discomfort. He lifted a hand only for it to hover awkwardly in the air between them. He lowered it again and swallowed around the lump in his throat.
“Maverick,” he began, weighing his words carefully, “you’re allowed to… not be fine,” he said lamely. “Goose was- You’re allowed to be upset.”
Maverick didn’t look at him. “Am I? Because it feels like everyone expects me to be over it by now.”
Sunny frowned. “That’s because everyone’s fucking stupid.”
Maverick gave a surprised, wet chuckle, lifting his head. His lips twitched in the most miserable smile Sunny had ever seen. “Uh huh.”
Sunny got over himself and placed a hand on Maverick’s shin, giving it what he hoped was a comforting rub through the denim. Chipper shifted a little closer, eyes slipping closed.
Later, Sunny would convince Maverick to take the couch, would give him an awkward half hug and bid him goodnight. Would wake up the next morning to find the living room empty, blanket folded on the couch the only sign Maverick had been there at all.
Later, Sunny and Chipper would walk into class on Monday morning and notice the two empty seats in the back row. Two empty seats that would stay that way.
But for now, there they sat, the three of them, in silence. In sadness. In understanding. Because maybe that's what Maverick needed. Someone to acknowledge that Goose meant something.
That Goose was special simply because he was special to Maverick.