"It looks stunning on you dear." His voice was laced with admiration, unable to take his eyes off you. "You’ll fit in with all the admiral’s wives if you’re not careful."

"Pete-"

He grins wider, if that was even possible. "Tell me I’m wrong," he dared.

"Pete-"

"Hmm?"

You shake your head at his attitude and his absolution in his beliefs, the concrete fact to him that you’ll stand out in any room you’re in, that you shine brighter and better that women ranked higher than you in the pillar of navy wives. "Stop talking."

"Yes Ma’am."

His antics continue in the run up to the ball, even after you’ve decided on your dress and practised your hair for the day. Pete continues to shower you with praise and affection, all in a bid to boost your confidence and show his love.

You’d spent the afternoon getting ready meticulously, banning Maverick from your side of the bedroom and from getting anywhere near your vanity, lest he try and get involved and sneak a kiss before your lipstick dries. He takes far less time to get into his Navy dress uniform and comb through his hair until it’s calmed down.

"I’m ready!" You called out to Pete from the bedroom, smoothing down the front of your dress and double checking the fastens on your shoes.

There’s a scuffle as Pete hurries from where’s he’s been waiting downstairs to see you at your best. He catches sight of you at the top of the stairs, looking like a true princess and for a moment he thinks he can’t breathe.

He never used to understand what Goose meant when he talked about Carol, the pure unadulterated love that they shared and the trust that flowed so freed between them. He never understood how anything could top the feeling of flying a jet as fat as it could go high in the sky and feeling the way your body was pressed against your seat so much until you suddenly felt weightless.

He understands it all now. It was the same way he understood it when he first saw your face, when you walked down the aisle towards him, and once more now as you stand at the top of your staircase stabbing straight into his heart.

"How do I look?"

It was asked quietly, almost self-consciously.

Pete answers honestly, a reverence in his tone that comes out hushed and sweet. "Absolutely stunning."

Pete is dressed immaculately, uniform steamed and creased in the perfect places. It makes him look far smarter than normal, but you have to admit that the flight suit has its personal charm (especially slung around his waist). The sight almost makes your mouth water, reminding you of your wedding and the best days of your life.

"I love you," you reply quietly, taking the final step to press into his arms, careful not to crease either your own outfit or his.

Pete presses a gentle kiss against your lips, careful to not smudge or transfer anything. "Let's go, before I can't bring myself to leave and let others see you so perfect."

Time ticks on as you say your hellos around the edges of the ballroom, hooked onto Pete's arm. Three glasses of champagne later, Pete slips away for a moment, leaving you in the capable hands of Goose and Carol. He's not gone for long enough to miss him, just enough to do what he needed to.

A gentle intrumental song spreads throughout the room, the orchestra up on the stage moving in synchronised movements with their intruments and each other. It takes you a moment to realise but when you do, the tears can't help themselves from springing.

It's your wedding song, the same song you'd had your first dance as husband and wife to.

You turn to Maverick, meeting the eyes that were already fixed to you, "Was this you?"

He straightens with a slight nod, fixing his stance until it's perfect and offering a hand to you, "Will you give me a dance Mrs Mitchell?"

"I'd love nothing more."

Your hand slips into his because it belongs there as he leads you onto the dance floor, hand wrapped possessively and warming around your waist. Your own hands rest one in his and one of his shoulder, fingertips ever so slightly brushing the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck.

The pair of you rock from side to side, Pete moving occasionally to spin you.

"I could stay like this forever, just you and I."

He smiles, the one from ten years ago, when you’d met. "I’d loving nothing more." He replies, repeating your words back to you.