#cyclone x reader

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Okay. I’ll go now.”

As he started walking down the middle, Hangman and Rooster both stood up and started following and he looked between them. “What the hell are you two doing?”

“It’s about Heretic,” Rooster said with a look of disbelief. “We’re coming.”

Maverick looked at Rooster. “You, I get coming along.” He then looked at Hangman. “You, I don’t, and I don’t like the implication either.”

Hangman shrugged and in cocky fashion, replied, “Probably shouldn’t.”

He ignored Hangman as they strode through the base and into medical where Heretic was laid up in a bed with her foot in a wrap and propped up by a pillow.

“Heeeeeeeey, dad,” she greeted. “Funny meeting you here.”

“AM Peterson said you were injured.”

“I told him not to tell you. I said I was fine.”

Maverick walked up and gestured to her foot. “How?”

“How or why?” she asked back.

“Both.”

She craned her neck to the two pilots behind him and Hangman quickly pulled the curtain around them. “Well, you see, what had happened was, AM Peterson and I were fucking around playing chicken with the nail gun.”

“Oh my God,” Maverick sighed. “Did you shoot yourself in the goddamn foot with a nail gun?” he hissed.

“Well, actually, AM Peterson shot me.” She looked at him proudly. “I’m no fucking chicken.”

Maverick rubbed a hand over his face and bent over, kissing her head. “You’re an idiot. I love you, I’m glad you’re okay, but you’re an idiot.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she nodded with pride as he yanked back the curtain and walked out of the medical wing.

Hangman grinned as he leaned on the top of the bed. “Guess this explains why you weren’t at debrief.”

“Yeah…now that I think about it, I should’ve probably been at debrief.”

Rooster crossed his arms over his chest. “What’d you tell the corpsmen?”

“That I had the nail gun at a wrong angle, and it shot through my foot.”

“You know those things come with warning labels about playing with them, yeah?” he asked, and she grinned.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” She looked around. “Speaking of venturing, can you guys get me out of here?”

Hangman snorted. “Yeah, pretty girl, we’ll get you out of here.”

“Thank you. The food here sucks.”

Before either man could help her, a voice echoed from behind, “Neither of you will help Heretic out of the medical wing. In fact, you will return to debrief like the other pilots.”

All three of them jumped and they spun, watching as the Vice Admiral stood there with his arms over his chest.

“Vice Admiral Simpson,” she smiled nervously. “What a treat for you to pay a lowly lieutenant a visit.” He narrowed his gaze on her as Hangman and Rooster began inching backwards. “No! Don’t you two—!” they practically sprinted out of the room, and she gave the Vice Admiral a hesitant smile. “Vice Admiral, have I ever told you that you are an incredibly good-looking gentleman? And that any woman would be lucky to have a moment of your time?”

“Flattery won’t work on me, Lieutenant Mitchell.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled, looking down and he walked up to her bedside.

“Did you really shoot yourself in the foot with a nail gun?”

She pursed her lips. “If I exercise my fifth amendment right does that, y’know, express guilt?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes sir, I shot myself in the foot with a nail gun.”

Cyclone sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “What is it with you two Mitchell’s?”

“Is that rhetorical or…” she trailed off when she saw the glare on his face. “I won the bet, if it makes you feel vindicated sir.”

“How much?”

“Two-fifty.” She pulled out the money and showed it to him; then she said, “I’ll give you one-twenty-five if you pretend I shot myself not playing chicken but fixing something.”

Cyclone looked at her for a solid moment, then he held out his hand and she smugly put the bills in it; as he pocketed it, he warned, “Do not, let this happen again, Lieutenant.”

“Aye-aye, Vice Admiral, sir.” As he walked off, she called out, “Can I buy you a beer sometime, sir?”

“Nice offer, Lieutenant, but I’m a little too old for you.”

You flipped back through the unanswered calls and text messages and you sighed heavily.

You could try for a taxi but… you had one more option, though you debated the merits of calling him.

Maybe a taxi would be better?

But you really wanted someone you knew and could trust- your nerves were frayed and you just wanted to have someone else take over and let you just be.

You were also about three minutes away from tears, so there was that.

With a mental pep talk, it’s not like he was going to bite; the worst he could say was no- you could do this, you pushed on his contact name and held the phone to your ear.

It rang once, twice and before the disappointment could fully settle in your gut the line clicked to life with a brusk, “Simpson.”

You exhaled a bit shakily. He’d actually answered.

“Hello?” his voice came across the line gruffly and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“A-Admiral Simpson,” you stuttered out, pausing immediately after. You weren’t exactly sure what to say. ‘Hey, I almost died, can I get a ride?’ That probably wasn’t the best approach.

“Y/N?” Cyclone asked after a moment, sounding much more alert and invested in the conversation. “Are you okay?”

You mentally sent him a thank you.

That was as good a way as any to start your request.

“No,” you said after another moment of silence. “I mean, yes, I’m fine, for the most part, just bruised but I need a ride and no one else answered or I wouldn’t bother you and I’m really sorry but I didn’t know what else to do and I didn’t want to take a taxi but I can- that’d probably be better- I’m really sorry for bothering you—“

“Y/N,” Cyclone’s ‘Admiral Voice’ cut through your increasing panic and you snapped your mouth shut, wiping at the sudden tears tracking down your cheeks. You tried really hard to not sniff loud enough he could hear you -you didn’t want to seem weak around the unflappable Air Boss- but you didn’t quite manage.

Cyclone’s voice was much softer, but no less urgent when he asked you, “Where are you?”

“Hospital,” you croaked out, wiping away yet more tears.

You heard the sound of the admiral moving around and then doors closing and opening.

“I’m leaving Base and heading that way- what happened?”

“Car accident,” you said quietly, not really able to expand on that. It honestly happened so fast and you’d already given your report to the police and the doctors;you just wanted to go home.

“And you’re okay?” Cyclone pressed and you felt the knot of anxiety in your chest ease up a bit at the concern in his voice.

“Yeah,” you said softly, not able to cover up the sniff this time, “I’m fine. Just…”

“Shaken up?” the Admiral said softly and you gave a wet laugh.

“Yeah. Kinda dumb, huh? You guys fight in wars and I’m freaking out because someone smashed into my car.”

“No,” came the ‘Admiral Voice’ again. “It is not ‘kinda dumb’. There is nothing wrong with being shaken up by an accident, Y/N.”

“But,” you found yourself arguing, “you guys deal with accidents and crashes and battles all the time; you’re never shaken up.” Never mind that you weren’t actually military like they were.

There was an inelegant snort from the man in the other side of the phone.

“If you’ve gotten that from listening to Mitchell’s stories, you should know he makes at least 80 percent of them up,” Cyclone muttered and you couldn’t help the laugh, even if it came out a little more shrill than normal.

“That’s better,” the man said warmly and you felt that knot in your chest loosen a little more.

You’d spoken to the Air Boss on quite a few occasions when you’d crossed paths and he was a good conversationalist and had a dry sense of humor but you’d never been on the receiving end of his care.

It almost made the whole accident worth it.

Speaking of accident—

“Are you almost here?” you asked in a small voice, feeling a bit silly for being so needy, no matter what Cyclone said.

“Just pulling in,” he answered. You stood up from one of the plastic chairs in the lobby where you’d been turned out once the doctor’s released you.

“I can meet you out front,” you said quickly, ready to get away from there.

There was a pause and then, “You’ve already been released?”

You gave a soft huff, already feeling better at the idea of getting out of there and going home. “Yeah- there wasn’t much wrong with me. Got a brace and also a prescription for pain meds if I need them- that’s it.”

“A brace?” the Admiral’s tone had sharpened and you gave a small smile as you walked out the door, easily finding his pickup idling at the curb in front.

“You can see for yourself in a moment,” you answered and then hung up as his driver door opened and Admiral Simpson came around the front of his truck, eyes boring into you from behind classic aviators.

You shaded your eyes with your not-braced hand as he stopped right in front of you.

“Thank you for coming,” you said after a few moments of silence.

Cyclone gently took your braced hand, turning it slightly this way and that to look it over.

“Always,” he rumbled as he finally deemed your brace satisfactory and opened the passenger door for you.

You gladly accepted his help into the cab and then leaned back against the seat and closed your eyes as he shut the door after you.

The truck smelled like him and leather and you felt the last of the tension release from your shoulders.

You felt safe.

As soon as Cyclone got into the driver’s seat, he raised a hand to gently brush a few tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Alright?” he asked softly and you blearily opened your eyes.

“Yeah,” you answered back just as softly. “Just tired.”

Beau hummed, putting his truck into gear and slowly pulling away from the curb.

“You going to be okay tonight?” he asked after a few minutes of silence and you gave him a soft smile.

“Yes, thank you. I’m just going to take some pain meds and go to sleep. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Even though you wanted nothing more than someone to cuddle with and sleep next to. But you figured that might be a bit above the call of duty for the Admiral.

Besides, it’s not like you were attacked and were afraid or anything. Just shaken up and on an adrenaline high- a high that was quickly leaving you.

Cyclone glanced over at you briefly before looking back to the road.

“We need to go fill your prescription?”

You gave a small groan. Dang it. You’d already forgotten about that- Beau made you feel safe enough to relax and your tiredness came to the forefront.

“I have some over the counter stuff at home,” you said finally. You just wanted to go and sleep. “I’ll be fine.”

 You could feel the raised eyebrows even though Beau wasn’t facing your way.

“Those aren’t going to be near as effective as what the doctor prescribed; you can stay in the truck and I’ll go in and fill it.”

You blinked over at him in surprise, though you really weren’t sure why. The man had left his job to come get you after all.

“You don’t have to,” you started but Cyclone’s look, even hidden behind his sunglasses, made you raise your good hand up in surrender. “Nevermind. Thank you, Admiral.”

The man huffed. “Beau or Cyclone, Y/N - not Admiral. The only reason I didn’t correct you when you first called was because I was a little preoccupied by the fact you had called at all. But I’d really rather you call me by my name and not my rank. I’d like to be more than that with you.”

There was silence in the cab of the truck after his declaration while you valiantly tried to figure out what exactly was going on. Maybe you’d hit your head in the accident? But no, they’d checked for a concussion at the hospital. Did adrenaline crashes include auditory hallucinations?

For his part, Beau was calmly driving, seemingly not bothered by the silence at all. But then, he was the Air Boss and probably dealt with more stressful and awkward situations than proclaiming intentions? feelings? and not having them immediately returned.

Not that you didn’t want to return them -hello, you weren’t blind and the man was pushing all the provider, protector buttons, but…what? Since when did he even remotely think of you as anything other than a friend of Maverick’s? (And it’s not like that relationship was necessarily a feather in your cap considering the love-hate relationship they had with each other – and Mav’s complete disregard for anything resembling rules and authority.)

The truck coming to a stop made you snap out of it and you looked around to see you were at one of the pharmacies in town.

Beau leaned over the console and looked over the rims of his sunglasses at you.

“Prescription, sweetheart?”

You automatically gave him the paper -now he was pulling out the pet names?!- and you just watched him in stunned silence as he exited the truck and headed inside.

What.

You pinched yourself lightly to make sure this was actually a thing. You winced. Yep. It was real. Huh.

Now you just had to decide what to do about it.

It wasn’t long before Cyclone was walking back out of the store (seriously, did Khaki always look that good?) with a bag filled what looked like a lot more than your prescription.

Curiously, you watched as he came around the passenger side and opened your door, putting the bag on the floor by your feet.

“For you,” he explained when he caught your eye. “Figured they’d help.”

He straightened up out of the truck and shut your door once again, heading back to the driver side, and you leaned down and looked through the bag.

Besides your filled prescription, there were Epson salts, Gatorades, a few different kinds of chocolate, a couple of ice packs and a heated blanket.

You looked at Beau as he got into the truck, eyes wide.

“Those things will help you the next few days,” the Admiral explained before you had a chance to even open your mouth. “The salts are for a bath and the ice packs and heated blanket for your bruises and sore muscles. However bad you feel now, once the adrenaline wears off completely and you sleep tonight, you’ll be stiff and feeling much worse tomorrow. Use those things and you’ll feel a lot better a lot quicker.”

You stared at him, blinking back tears. Honestly, if you hadn’t already been attracted to him, this would have sealed the deal.

“I-thank you,” you breathed, reaching your good hand over to grab his. “You didn’t have to, I mean, I really appreciate it, Beau. Truly.”

The man gave a small smile, his hand squeezing yours.

“I’m glad. Now, let’s get you home and to bed, sweetheart, alright?”

You murmured your agreement, still staring at him in wonder – no one had ever done something like this for you and it left you stunned and with a warm feeling curling in your chest.

Beau seemed to understand your fragility and kept your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of your hand as he drove down the road.

You shifted slightly in your seat to turn towards him, tiredly resting your head against the seat and closing your eyes, soft smile on your face. He really was wonderful.

“Go to sleep, Y/N,” Beau murmured from beside you. "We'll be at your house soon."

You hummed in agreement, giving his hand a soft squeeze before letting yourself drift off.

Such a wonderful man…

/////\\\\\

You woke with a start sometime later, wincing as you accidentally put pressure on your wrist. You looked around in confusion – you were in your house. In your room. In your bed.

What…?

There was a creak in the hallway and you jerked your head over towards your door to see Beau fill the doorway.

“Ah. I was hoping you’d wake before I left. It can be disconcerting waking up alone after an accident. Especially in a different place than where you fell asleep.” He moved farther into the room towards the bed. “You okay? Remember what happened?”

You stared at him for a moment, mind racing. Remember – oh yes. The accident. And calling the Admiral. Who wanted you to call him Beau. And who bought much more than your prescription.

“You like me,” you almost accused him and Beau jerked in surprise at the random statement before barking a laugh.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I do,” he grinned, taking a seat on the edge of your bed.

You stared at him, not quite comprehending the ease of his agreement.

“Why?” you asked him, still confused.

“Because you’re you,” the Air Boss said with a shrug. “You’re smart, funny, gorgeous and you make me feel like I have a purpose outside the Navy. I enjoy the time we have together, even when it’s short conversations about the weather. And I even enjoy talking to Mitchell when he’s regaling me with stories of your latest escapades together.”

You looked at him carefully, seeing the open and honest expression on his face. You had no idea he saw you like that.

“I didn’t know,” you murmured and he gave a small smile.

“And now you do. If you’re agreeable, I’d like to do this in a way that would leave no doubt as to my regard for you; I’d like to take you on a date when you’re recovered.”

You found yourself nodding eagerly before he’d even finished his sentence.

“Yes -please,” you said quickly and he gave a soft laugh.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll plan something once you’re better.” He laughed louder at the pout that sprung up on your face. Forget being better - you were fine to go on a date right now!

“I’ll swing by with some coffee and breakfast tomorrow morning,” he compromised, standing up and then leaning down to tuck the covers up closer around you. “I’ll help you get better as quickly as I can and then we’ll have our date, okay?”

“Okay,” you grinned, snuggling down into your covers. Beau gave you a soft look, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He hadn’t seen you in years. Not since you had left without a word, tired of the strained relationship, the half-hearted attempts at fatherhood that never quite measured up. And now, here you were, moving across the tarmac with a confidence that made his breath hitch. But it wasn’t just you — his gaze was pulled to the little girl sprinting ahead of you, her laughter carrying over the commotion, and then lower, to the small swell of your belly. 

Then he saw the man she was running to. 

Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson stood tall, his normally severe expression softening as he crouched to scoop up the little girl — your daughter — who launched himself into his arms with an unbridled joy that made Maverick’s chest tighten. The man’s hand, strong and sure, settled on her back before shifting ever so briefly to your waist as you reached him. An intimately protective gesture. A husband’s gesture. 

Beau pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring something only you could hear, before his sharp eyes lifted — meeting Maverick’s stare with an expression that was unreadable, save for the unmistakable glint of challenge beneath the surface. It wasn’t the professional disdain Maverick was used to from the admiral. No, this was something else. Something deeply personal. 

For a long moment, Maverick just stood there, heart hammering against his ribs, the weight of everything — your marriage, your daughter, the life you had built with a man who was supposed to be his adversary — crashing down on him all at once. 

And then, for the first time in his life, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell didn’t know what the hell to say. 

Beau held Maverick’s gaze for a beat longer before his focus shifted back to you, his hand never leaving you. He murmured something low, something meant only for you, and you nodded, fingers brushing over his knuckles in silent reassurance. 

Maverick had seen a lot of things in his time, but this? Seeing you here standing beside a man like him — the very embodiment of rules and structure, of everything Maverick had spent his entire career pushing against — knocked the wind right out of him. 

“Mama, who’s that?” 

The little girl’s voice snapped him back to the present, her curious eyes bouncing between you and him as she clung to Beau’s shoulder. 

Your daughter. His granddaughter. 

Maverick swallowed hard as you took a slow breath before stepping forward, closing the space between you. “Stella, sweetheart,” you said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “This is Pete.” A pause. A hesitation so small, yet so heavy. “He’s my father.” 

Stella’s brows scrunched up, and then she looked back at Beau, as if the pieces weren’t quite fitting together. “But Daddy’s your husband.” 

A flicker of something — amusement, tension, or maybe just patience — passed over Beau’s face as he adjusted Stella on his hip. He didn’t speak, didn’t intervene, just let you take the lead. 

Maverick cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet the little girl’s inquisitive gaze. “That’s right,” he said, his voice rougher that he’d meant it to be. “Your dad and I… we know each other.” 

Stella considered that for a second, then, with all the bluntness of a child, asked, “Are you friends?” 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

A slow, measured breath left Cyclone’s nose, and you exhaled softly, a sound that was more tired than anything. Maverick let out a low chucked, more at himself than anything else, because how the hell was he supposed to answer that? 

You saved him from trying. “Not exactly, honey,” you said carefully, smoothing a hand over her back. “But we do go way back.” 

Stella seemed to accept that answer, but her little nose scrunched up in thought. “Then why I haven’t I seen him before?” 

Maverick flinched. Damn, this kid was sharp. 

You hesitated, and Beau’s jaw twitched like he was biting back a response of his own. There was history here, years of it, and Maverick could feel it pressing down on him from all sides. You had moved on. You had built a life, a family, without him. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of it, decades too late and with no idea how to fix what had already been broken. 

Finally, you sighed, shifting closer to your husband. “It’s… complicated,” you admitted.

Maverick caught the way Beau’s grip tightened just slightly around your waist at that. Protective, territorial. Like he wasn’t quite sure if here was where Maverick should be. 

And hell, maybe he was right. 

Stella seemed to think it over for a second before shrugging, apparently satisfied for now. Then, just as quickly as she put Maverick on the spot, she turned back to Beau with the boundless energy only a child could have. “Can we get ice cream now?” 

You huffed out a low chuckle, shaking your head. “We just had ice cream yesterday, kid.” 

“But I was really good today.” She turned big, pleading eyes on Beau, the same ones you had used on Maverick as a kid, because damn if they weren’t affective. 

Your husband sighed, clearly resigned to this fate. “We’ll see.” 

Stella beamed, satisfied, and wriggled out of his arms to run towards her “Uncle” Warlock and his family nearby. 

Maverick exhaled, watching her go before turning back to you. There was still so much unsaid, so many things that wouldn’t fit in the space of one conversation. But when his gaze flickered to your stomach again — he hadn’t just missed your life. He had missed this one too. 

“I didn’t know,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. 

You studied him for a long moment. Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t entirely hostile. Just… heavy. 

Then, Beau shifted beside you. “We should get going.” It wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t exactly warm either. 

Maverick met his eyes again, and this time, there was something new in them. Not just the usual distrust, but something deeper. A line drawn in the sand. A promise. 

This is my family now. 

His footing is steady as he crosses the yard and ascends the porch, the part of him only you got to see relieved to be home earlier than average and with tonight's sports viewing schedule already pulled up on his phone.

Though as most moments of peace seem to do in his life, that feeling is ripped away when he reaches the front door that…won't open.

His brows furrow instantly, stepping back on a heel to check the familiar porch and then further up the home's siding until the number plate set in the masonry confirms that this is, in fact, his home. He tries the door once, then again, his frustration mixing with a kind of bewilderment at how the hell he'd been seemingly locked out of the stately home he feels he frankly pays a bit too much for.

Just before his fourth go at opening the door, a sound to the left draws his attention.

Kneeling on a couch seated in front of a large window you've just slid open, you peek your head out and address the man in front of you with words spoken in a tone that sucks out whatever bit of normalcy he has left in his tired mind.

"Who are you and what is your business?" You say, half out the window and matching Beau's ever hardening gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"Who are you and what is your business?" You repeat, eyes nearly shining with silent glee.

He stares at you for a long moment. Then at the door. Then you again.

"What the hell is this?" He finally asks.

You bite back a laugh, fully committed to your display, or at minimum getting a rise out of him.

"Given your uniform and general demeanor, Mr.-" you pause, squinting to read his name plate as if you truly don't know him, "-Simpson, I regrettably have to inform you that you aren't allowed inside these quarters."

He outright scoffs at that, rubbing a tired hand over his equally tired eyes as he shifts his weight and calls upon whatever patience he has left.

"And why, exactly, is my own wife denying me entrance into my own home?" He questions flatly, just the faintest hint of exasperated tension lacing his words.

Leaning further out of the window, you clear your throat and go to speak, fully unable to hide your wide smile now.

"As explicitly stated in the Third Amendment of the United States Constitution, I—being a private citizen and all—am under exactly zero obligation to quarter soldiers and other such personnel."

With a long beat of unblinking silence, Beau lets out a heavy exhale. First through his nose then forcefully from his chest until air escapes out both passageways as his expression darkened—a sign of his building frustration.

"This isn't funny, you know," he says.

"Speak for yourself, Admiral."

He rolls his eyes at that, and you know you've got him.

"Oh, so you do you know me?" he says, his voice a touch less bitter and instead weighted by his dry sarcasm.

When you don't answer, simply smiling pleasantly at him, he lets out another breath before folding his arms over his chest and leveling you with a stare.

"Just so I'm clear, you're using the constitution against me?"

"Yes."

"Your husband."

"Yeah, babe."

"The Third Amendment."

"Mhm."

"In our own home."

"Correct."

By now, he's somewhere between downright exasperated and fighting back a laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose and mumbling something to himself that sounds faintly like your name followed by a rare, reluctant term of endearment. Only then do you see that you do, in fact, have him exactly where you want him—just as in love with you (and you're unending antics he's sure are destined to drive him insane) as he's always been.

After a minute of silent collection on his part, he fixes you with the kind of glare that's ruined careers and sent men scrambling. Though where enmity should be and so often is, his dark blue eyes are filled with a light sense of actual amusement.

He sighs then, rubbing his temples and voicing your name.

"Yes honey?" You smile.

"Open the damn door."

"No."

That nearly gets a curse from him, but he's too in control and far too much of a traditionalist to let himself curse in front of his wife, much less at her and over something so bewilderingly trivial.

After a short lap taken around the porch, he tries again. Now waging his verbal attack from a different angle.

"Over the course of just today, I have dealt with more overarching incompetence than I ever once signed up for," he says to you dryly, "and yet I'm standing here, having this conversation instead of sitting on my own damn couch and watching the Padres game, who by the way are-" He pauses, checking his phone for a beat, letting out a tense breath and rubbing his temples once more, before resuming his argument, "-Closing out the second inning."

"That sucks," you say with an unhideable smile.

"You have no idea."

For a long moment you both just stay there, him standing on the porch while you maintain your position in the window. Your expression is so peaceful it'd piss him off if he didn't find you so annoyingly beautiful. He instead settles for attempting to wear you down with a firm expression, his eyes steely and lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line.

"Mrs. Simpson," He says finally, breaking the long silence, "may I request your permission to enter what is, again, my own home?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely…" You say with that same smile, withdrawing from the window and closing it.

He lets out a breath as you do just disappear back inside, a part of him genuinely expecting you to simply head upstairs and get in that bed he's spent his day longing for, instead of following through and allowing him entry.

A second later the door opens, you leaning agains the inside frame, and he can't help the way his eyes always soften just the smallest bit as his gaze lands on you.

"Is that a yes?" He asks finally.

With the nod you give him he steps forward, closing the distance between you and putting his hands on your hips with a sigh.

"Remind me again why I married you?" He says, voice entirely sarcastic.

"Because I'm pretty and willing to put up with you, with your total of three moods and one expression?" You joke back.

That earns another sigh, though this time it leans more towards a laugh and you don't miss the slightest of smirks ghosting over his features. "Something like that," he mumbles, leaning in to put a kiss to on top of your head.

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell:

depends on what age you're thinking!

if it's young!mav, he's probably just a liiiitle reluctant to let himself relax sometimes

he's sort of got his tough guy persona, and he's not used to dropping it, so when you get him alone he tries messing around at first

whether that's a few too many kisses, or a pinch to your side, he guards himself a bit before letting himself go

but when he does, oh, he's like a little kitten !

he lets you run your hands through his gelled hair (gross)

and it gets all misshapen and spiky

he probably just melts when you pet his hair like that, and he'll be snoozing on your chest in no time

now older!mav is definitely less of a tough nut to crack

he probably initiates the cuddling in the first place, he nudges you over to the bed and lays himself on top of you to crush you

you can push at his chest and splutter all you want, but he's made his choice on where he's going to lay, and it's on you

he likes holding you, but he wants to be face-to-face, so you can brush noses and bump foreheads

he probably tries sooo hard to stay awake so that he can soak in the time you're spending together but peepaw definitely crashes like 10 minutes in

Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw:

he also likes to be face to face!

buuut not for the same sweet reason as mav

he just wants to itch you with his mustache

he likes nipping at you too, he bites your nose to make you laugh

you won't be getting any sleep when you cuddle with goose, he just wants to talk and laugh and hold you the entire time

it's not a period of time to wind down, it's a big laugh-fest

and god FORBID you try to get up to pee

“Nick, I have to go.” / “Sorry, honey. I can’t let go. I think my hand’s stuck.” / “NICK!!”

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky

he’s another one who probably has just a bit of trouble letting his guard down

he’ll cuddle with you no doubt, but he’ll probably always keep you in his lap or have some sort of upper hand in the embrace

it takes a while before he’s ready to be held himself

when he does finally give in it's so soft and sweet :')

he's had a really hard day and he comes home with his eyes drooping

you've planned a movie night but he doesn't even look like he could sit through an episode of a tv show

so you lead him to bed instead, and tell him you're sleepy, cause he won't 'ruin' the night by admitting that he is

you ask to play with his hair and he lets you, but he's not sure why 'cause you just said you were tired??

you basically have to trick him into being held but once his head is on your chest and your hands are in his hair he's gone.

he ends up mumbling something all sleepy and groggy like 'mm, that's nice' and his eyes are half shut and he's so endearingly tired :')

he wants you to do it all the time now, I'd say it's about 50/50 whether you fall asleep holding him or he falls asleep holding you

Ron 'Slider' Kerner:

slider's a big boy!!!!!!!

he's big and tall and muscly, the perfect cuddle buddy

he's probably more inclined to hold than be held

but he likes it when you face him so you can wrap your arms around his back :')

he probably likes it when he's able to bury his face in your neck/shoulder/against the top of your head

like he always wants his face snuggled in somewhere warm and nice smelling

and it just so happens his chest is an excellent place to get lost yourself

so you most of the time just nuzzle right into each other and get to snoozin'

i think he'd talk real soft, too, he'd murmur against your ear while you're drifting off, probably boring you to sleep with technical details of his flights but just before you crash for the night he slips in a little 'i love you, honey' and <33333

Leonard 'Wolfman' Wolfe:

he's a loser for his partner it has to be said

almost as teasing as nick is but not quite

he'll let you fall asleep he just wants to talk to you AllTheTime because he LovesYouSoMuch

he's a chatterbox and you'll be lucky if you get to sleep at a decent hour

he really likes it when you lay your head on his chest

'cause he likes playing with your hair and your face :]

sometimes he'll just use you as a little stress toy and squeeze your cheeks and pinch your nose and poke at your forehead

always making silly little jokes and telling you all about his day

down to, like, every comment one of his friends made...

'and then slider said he was gonna kill him but hollywood ran, so then they were just chasing each other around and iceman said-' / 'babe.. can we sleep? please?' / 'oh! right, sorry baby.'

Rick 'Hollywood' Neven

listen there's a reason he and wolfman get along so well

they're BOTH teases!!!

cuddling with hollywood is not really relaxing, because he's always pinching your sides or putting his nasty cold feet all over you, or pretending to knock you out by fake-punching you a bunch

you're just laying there and he's 'punching' your stomach, making fake punch sounds with his mouth, and if you push him away he'll pretend you've absolutely knocked him out, tumbling down onto the mattress with this dramatic thump and closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of his mouth like he's a dead cartoon character 😭

he's like a dog you have to get his energy out before trying to rest with him or he just Won't Rest

when you DO get him sleepy, though, he's kinda incoherent when he's tired, so you'll be cuddled up together, maybe you're scratching his back, maybe he's playing with your hair, and he's just sort of mumbling nonsense until he finally drifts off to sleep

Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson:

will not be held

sorry! not happening

he's just so big and beefy and authoritative that he doesn't much enjoy being coddled

he loves cuddling with you though, he gets very relaxed just laying with you

he's a casual toucher, i think, so you can rest your head on his shoulder at the airport, you can hold his hand at restaurants, whether that be over or under the table, he lets you hang all over him however you want

he's not super into in-your-face PDA, though, so you'll have to be polite and considerate about it

actually in bed though, under the blankets at night?

he's so much more cuddly than you'd expect

he wraps his big strong arms around you and tugs you close and lets you melt all over him <33

your favorite place to lay your head is probably his chest 'cause it's so broad and firm and nice <3

he's a good back rubber so cuddles are always soft and cozy and sleepy

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw:

lord he's a cuddler

he's just a touchy guy, because he's probably gone without it for a significant amount of time so now that he's got you he's gonna enjoy it

big big big on pda, doesn't really care who sees

so that means cuddling in public, too

perfectly content to sit by the beach with you in his lap all cuddled back into his chest he doesn't care if anyone teases him

but back in bed he's a sucker for head scratches

if you have long-ish nails, enough to scratch at his scalp, he'll literally melt over you like an ice cream cone

his limbs go all gooey and he flops his head down on your chest, groaning and grunting while you scratch through his hair

he really enjoys sleeping on top of you, whether that be fully chest-to-chest 'you're suffocating me' cuddling or just an arm thrown over your stomach while he lays on his own

he likes being held, too, but probably prefers to hold unless he's having a hard day

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin:

big boy!! surprisingly fond of being held for everything we know about him

that cocky demeanor does not last under the sheets

he adores holding you, of course, he'll wrap his big arms around you and cradle your head to his chest

he probably plays with your hair, looooves it when you tangle your legs up with his own

he prefers if you talk to him rather than him talk to you if you're cuddling

cause he likes the sound of your voice and he loves hearing about your day

he tries to listen so attentively to what you're saying, but if you're taking a little too long telling him about that batty old customer that had visited the shop you work at today, his eyes are going to slowly start to droop and he's gonna let out a big ol yawn that means it's time for him to close his eyes

you always cut yourself off like 'sorry, jake. g'head, go to sleep'

and he insists you continue like 'nooo darlin' i wanna hear! keep going :]' except within two minutes he's dozing against the pillow while you talk about the old lady again

he's a simple man just talk soft and slow to him while snuggled up in his arms and he's gonna sleep no matter what you're telling him

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace:

she really likes laying face-to-face with you!!

she's a fan of spooning, of course, she likes either burying her face in your back or letting you snuggle into hers

but she loves the intimacy that comes from being pretty much nose-to-nose with you

the type to lay there and chat with you mere inches away so that you're leaning in to kiss her all giggly and bashful every four seconds

she uses your cuddle time to tell you all about her teammates, what stupid shit jake said today, how bob almost tripped down the stairs, that fanboy's got a new girlfriend who wants to meet you, etc etc etc

but that means when you see them next you know all of the hot gossip about everyone and you giggle every time jake says something dumb and he's like WHAT.. WHAT IS IT.. WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME.. and you give nat this little ;) 'cause you'll definitely be talking shit about him later

she does this thing where she cradles the back of your head in her hand if you're face to face and she throws her leg over your waist and it gives you such intense butterflies that you need to close your eyes sometimes <3333

Robert 'Bob' Floyd:

cuddlebug <3

he loooves cuddling but if you do it face-to-face he's gonna need to be super close to you because he can't see without his glasses 😭

i'm taking like nose-to-nose so close that you have to cross your eyes to see him

otherwise he's pretty chill in what positions he likes

you love it when he reads to you

i think he might not be the most confident reader out loud but he does it anyways 'cause it puts you to sleep

he gets really sleepy really easily so sometimes it's best to refrain from cuddling in public

like you're out on the beach by a firepit and you're all snuggled up together but oops he can't enjoy his smores because he's sleeping on your shoulder

he loves it when you lay your head on his shoulder sm :'))

he wraps his arm around you and tugs you closer <3

Javy 'Coyote' Machado:

prefers holding to being held

probably a little less talkative than the rest, but that doesn't mean you never chat

he just has this insane ability to fall asleep anywhere, i'm talking slumped against the bus window, leaning against the wall, sitting on the ground, piloting his aircraft sorry

he likes staring at you, though, while he falls asleep :')

if you're talking to him he'll listen and nod and hum along and agree when he should, he's a very good listener

but slowly he'll start to fade a bit, and he'll sling his hand over your waist, smush his face into the pillow, and keep listening for as long as he can

slooooowly you start getting less responses from him, he's not reacting as much, but his eyes are always locked onto your face and he's got this lazy little smile on his face while he drifts off to sleep 'cause he gets to look at you the whole time :')

loverboy!!

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia:

the most talkative in the whole wide world

cuddling with him is barely even cuddling, it's watching him act out his entire day

'and then payback went like this and- BAM! shot it down.'

and he's up on his knees in the middle of the bed with his arms out demonstrating exactly how they'd worked through their training exercises that day

and he is loud and energetic and you're half-asleep like 'that sounds awesome, babe.'

he isn't one to stay in one place really, he likes tossing and turning a bit before he falls asleep which means that you are also going to be tossed and turned

he's a really shifty sleeper too so you'll wake up with your face in his armpit

if you're really sleepy though, he'll settle down, he'll pull you into his chest and let you fall asleep there

but he'll probably be on his phone for a bit, he strikes me as a crazy night owl

Reuben 'Payback' Fitch:

out in two seconds

there is no conscious cuddling with him

why?

because the second his head hits the pillow he's snoring

you can cuddle up to him but if he's cuddling up to you he's doing it in his sleep

you're actually so jealous of him bc you lay down for the night and he tucks his chin over your head or he snuggles his face into your neck and that's it.

he's out.

he's a clingy sleeper, though, so if you wanna read for a bit or use your phone it might be kind of hard

honestly it really helps your sleep schedule to sleep with him 'cause sometimes he's entirely wrapped around you and you can't move

so there's nothing to do but sleep yourself

he's like a living furnace i KNOW that man runs hot

you probably wake up sweating a bunch if you're all snuggly with him

blanket stealer. he somehow manages to tear them off of the end of the bed where they're tucked in and cocoon himself

and then you wake up freezing cold

when i said he snores i mean it he snores loud

it's sort of comforting eventually? like at first it drives u insane

Beau could hear the sounds of your daughters from down the hall as he walked into your house and felt some of the weight already melting off of his shoulders from his long day.

“Daddy!” Maggie, your eldest daughter, squealed, slipping down from her seat.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Beau bent down and scooped her up into his arms with a bright smile on his face. Setting her on his hip, Beau pressed a kiss to her cheek and fixed the bow in her hair.

“How was your day at school?” Beau asked, walking slowly into the kitchen.

“I got a sticker for being a good line leader!” Maggie announced, causing Beau to smile proudly at her.

“Very good, sweetie. We’re so proud of you.”

“Mommy said that I could have ice cream,” Maggie stated, causing you to turn around from the sink.

“After you finish eating your vegetables, Mags.”

“That sounds fair to me,” Beau replied, setting Maggie back down in her seat. “And I’ll throw in some sprinkles if you finish that broccoli.”

“Promise?” Maggie asked, holding up her pinky finger.

“Promise,” Beau agreed, wrapping his far larger pinky around her own.

Moving onto your younger daughter, Beau clucked his tongue with fake disapproval, causing Parker to grin and giggle up at her dad.

“Ms. Parker, you have far too much tomato sauce on your face,” Beau stated, reaching over to grab a paper towel. Gently holding your daughter’s chin, Beau wiped the sauce off of your daughter’s face before planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. “Were you a good girl for Mommy?”

“Yup!” Parker returned quickly, wearing a mischievous grin that Beau knew was going to give him heart attacks in the future.

“Mostly,” you teased your youngest as you finished up with the dishes.

“Sorry I’m late,” Beau apologized to you, walking over to give you a quick peck in greeting.

“Well, after last night, I assumed that something big was going on,” you assured your husband, setting a plate into the dishwasher.

Beau had gotten a call right around bedtime last night and he didn’t come to bed until the early morning. And you knew what that meant. Something big was going down. And as the Air Boss, your husband was going to be heavily involved. Beau glanced over at your daughters, who were still eating their dinner, before turning back to you.

“You want to break the rule, don’t you?” you guessed, turning to face your husband.

“Am I allowed to break the rule?” Beau asked, causing you to smirk a bit.

“Permission granted, Admiral. Proceed,” you replied, drying off your hands.

“Well, we needed to call in a specialist for this particular event,” Beau started off, folding his arms across his chest. “And we called in someone a little . . . familiar to you.”

You frowned for a bit, your eyes darting back and forth as you ran through the short list of Navy personnel that you were ‘familiar’ with when it suddenly clicked. Setting down the dish towel, you turned to your husband with an incredulous look.

“Maverick?”

“Yes,” Beau confirmed, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“I thought that he was taken off active-duty years ago,” you replied, causing Beau to nod.

“He was, but Iceman disagreed, and called him in.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, glancing over at the girls.

And how did you know Pete “Maverick” Mitchell? Well, you had technically known him your entire life.

Your mother and Pete Mitchell had a brief tryst that resulted in your existence. But Maverick was never very much around in your life, though you only found out recently, due to your mother’s actions. But after she passed away, you started digging to find out more about your father and reached out to Maverick.

Your relationship with your dad was very slow going. He didn’t even know that you were married to Beau. He knew that you were married with two little girls, but he didn’t know the name of your husband. He never asked. And you didn’t tell him.

“Did you want your whiskey then?” you joked quietly, spinning your wedding band around your finger.

“Not tonight,” Beau replied, straightening up. “We have an early morning tomorrow.” He took a step forward and gently took your hand into his own, rubbing your skin with his thumb. “And you’re alright? With him being in town?”

“Of course, I’m fine with that,” you returned, squeezing your husband’s hand. “I was just surprised.” Reaching up to grab your husband’s shoulders, you massaged his tense muscles. “And between the two of us, I think that you’re the one who’s less alright with him being in town.”

“I just need him to follow my orders,” Beau sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh,” you cooed, cupping your husband’s cheeks with your hands, “you’re definitely going to need some more whiskey. I’ll pick up some more tomorrow for you.”

Pressing a teasing kiss to his lips, you giggled when he pulled you in for more. And you were happy to return it, up until your daughter started screaming bloody murder.

“EW! Daddy! You have to put a dollar in the kissing jar!” Maggie yelled, pointing at the jar in the corner of the kitchen.

Similar to a swear jar, the kissing jar in your household was for when your daughters, mostly Maggie, thought that you and Beau were getting just a little too lovey dovey in front of them. The kissing jar money mostly went to ice cream or other desserts that you bought the girls, which only motivated them to call you and Beau out on it more.

“I will,” Beau promised, smiling over at Maggie. “Right after I give Mommy one last kiss.”

“That’s two dollars!” Maggie demanded as Beau pressed another kiss to your lips.

~~~~~

It was a few days after the mission and you waited with your two girls and the other families for the newly formed Dagger Squad to return to Miramar. Beau had called you yesterday from Hawaii, where the planes stopped to refuel and rest, before heading on to Miramar today. And right on time—which you expected nothing less from your husband—you spotted the planes in the distance.

Once they all landed and taxied off the runway and you were given the all clear from the grounds crew, you pointed your daughters in the direction of the plane that you knew Beau was on. Maggie took off running, already yelling for him, while Parker was happy to catch a ride from you.

“Come on, let’s go see Daddy,” you cooed to your youngest daughter before walking off.

“Who’s that woman?” Hangman wondered aloud, watching you walk across the tarmac.

“Out of your league,” Phoenix replied, not even having to glance up.

“Who do you think she’s here for?”

“Probably her spouse, judging by the toddler in her arms,” Bob added, sharing a look with his pilot.

“She’s probably . . .” Rooster trailed off, blinking with surprise at your appearance. Because you looked oddly familiar to the woman that Maverick showed him a picture of in the infirmary. Maverick mentioned that the woman was his daughter and that they were slowly reconnecting, but that they weren’t very close yet. “Holy shit. Who is she here for?”

“Did Hangman’s bullshit transfer that quickly to you? You were in his backseat for a couple of hours,” Phoenix scoffed, causing Rooster to shake his head.

“No, that’s Maverick’s daughter.”

“Maverick has a daughter?” Hangman asked, turning around.

“Yeah, one that he’s not really close with. So, who is she . . . you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Maverick and Cyclone stepped off the plane side by side, chatting about what was to come in the next few days since Iceman’s replacement was not yet decided. But before Cyclone could get too wrapped up in the conversation, Warlock tapped Cyclone on the arm and gestured towards the hangar.

Cyclone turned and instantly smiled when he spotted Maggie running towards him, pumping her little arms to run as fast as she could. You trailed behind her with Parker on your hip, but you waved to him as soon as you locked eyes. Maverick followed Cyclone’s gaze, expecting the daughters that Cyclone mentioned very briefly in passing to be teenagers.

But when little six-year-old Maggie leapt into her dad’s waiting arms, Maverick was quietly surprised.

“You’re back!”

“I am back, yes,” Cyclone agreed, hugging his daughter to his chest. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah, a lot! And Mommy was sad without you!”

“Well, she does like me just a little bit,” Cyclone joked, setting his daughter on his hip. “Were you a good girl for her?”

“Like I promised,” Maggie agreed, holding up her pinky finger. “Parker threw up though.”

“When?” Cyclone asked, instantly concerned.

“Mommy said that she ate too fast and then ran around too much,” Maggie replied, shrugging her shoulders. “It was a few days ago.”

“Daddy!” Parker yelled, causing Beau to look away from Maggie.

You set down a wiggling Parker onto the ground, letting her run the last of the way to her dad. And then you turned to face your own, who was staring at you in shock. You shot him a sheepish smile.

“Surprise,” you breathed out, waving to Maverick, who waved dumbly back.

Cyclone, meanwhile, picked up Parker and held both of his girls. Pressing a kiss to both of their cheeks, Cyclone walked over to you. Turning away from Maverick, you smiled up at your husband and gently cupped his cheeks to pull him in for a soft kiss.

“You’re finally home,” you sighed in relief, rubbing his cheeks with your thumb.

“We’re all home. In one piece,” Cyclone reported, causing you to let out a breath.

Pulling your husband in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around your little family for a moment. In the background, Hondo slowly waved his hand in front of Maverick’s eyes, shocked himself at the turn of events, but far more amused than Maverick was about it. Pulling away from your husband, you turned to greet your dad.

“Hey, Mav,” you called softly, walking over to him. You gave him a quick hug and squeeze in greeting, all while waiting for his reaction to actually drop. “How are you?”

“Shocked,” Maverick replied, glancing between you and Cyclone. “You . . . he’s your husband?”

“For the past eight years,” Cyclone stated, adjusting his hold on your daughters.

“But . . .” Maverick blinked rapidly, turning back to you. “I mean, isn’t he a bit . . .”

“He is still your superior officer,” Cyclone reminded Maverick, causing you to shoot him the same look that you always did when he got a bit snappy during Navy social events.

“Yes, we’re aware that there’s an age gap between us,” you assured your dad, turning back to Maverick.

“How did the two you of you even meet?”

“Well, I had this ad up on a sugar baby website and—”

“—You know that I don’t like that joke,” Cyclone interjected, causing you to shoot him a playful smile while Maverick’s heart attack receded.

“We met at a wedding actually. Mutual friends. We sat next to each other at the same table and spent most of the night talking. I managed to convince him to dance and then we got together about two weeks after that.”

“Ten days,” Cyclone replied, pressing a kiss to Maggie’s head.

“And these are your daughters?” Maverick asked, looking over at your girls.

“Yes, this is Maggie. She’s six. And that’s Parker. She’s three,” you introduced, pointing out your daughters to Maverick.

“They’re beautiful,” Maverick commented, causing Cyclone to nod towards you.

“They get it from her.”

Maverick nodded in return and you and Cyclone excused yourselves, walking off to greet Warlock’s family. He blinked dumbly, still in disbelief that the fact that his daughter was married to someone like Cyclone of all people. Cyclone? Really? The man was an outstanding aviator, but he was probably at least fifteen years older than you and a stick in the mud.

Hondo’s barely contained laughter caused Maverick to turn towards the warrant officer.

“What?”

“Well, isn’t it ironic that for all the crap that they give you for running around with Penny, an admiral’s daughter, that your own daughter married an admiral? And Cyclone at that.”

•You and Beau meet at a bar. Due to the nature of his job, Beau doesn’t go out much but fortunately decides to hang out with his friends after work one day where he meets you.

•Despite the age difference, you and Beau actually have a lot of similar interests. You both love watching classic films from the 70s and 80s. You also both share a love of classic rock.

•Beau keeps you a secret at work. I think he gets insecure about his age sometimes and he doesn’t want his colleagues to look down on him because of who he is dating.

•Beau is definitely the provider type. He loves taking care of you and just people in general.

•I think Beau is a really good listener. Whenever you have a hard day, you can rant to him for hours on end and he’ll just listen.

•Beau loves leaving handwritten notes for you. Whenever he gets deployed, he always hides little letters around your home to let you know he’s thinking of you.

•Beau is NOT good when it comes to technology and it’s something you often make fun of him for.

•Once, he asks you for help lowering the brightness on your phone and you burst out into laughter.

•Beau values your presence in his life. He never thought at 50 he’d find someone so loving and caring.

•When you get a big promotion at your job, Beau is the first person congratulating you. He gets you flowers and champagne to celebrate.

•Beau, like Bradley and Jake, would drop anything for you. (Honestly I think all the aviators would.)

•Beau loves watching documentaries. It doesn’t matter what the documentary is about. If there’s one on tv, Beau is SAT. (He also still has cable FOR SURE.)

•Beau has really bad work life balance. One of your first arguments is about Beau spending too much time at work. You miss him when he’s gone but you also worry for his sanity. Being an admiral isn’t an easy job. It’s also not a job you should be doing 24/7.