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gyu-effect · 1 year

Text

sucker (for you) || j.ww

“IT’S LIKE I’M A SUCKER FOR YOU”

PAIRING || Wonwoo x Female Reader

GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, College AU, Humour, Fluff

SUMMARY || First year in college was always known to be stressful with all the assignments to complete, parties to enjoy and lectures to attend. But for you, it was a whole different type of stress: the conflicting (and growing) feelings of affection towards your best friend. Falling for him isn’t an option, but neither is avoiding him. So what do you do when you are down bad for the one and only Jeon Wonwoo?

Or, in which, one drunk party sends you hurtling down a rollercoaster of love for your best friend.

SERIES MASTERLIST || teen, age

MUSIC || Sucker by Jonas Brothers

WARNINGS || Nothing actually, mentions of alcohol, just drunk!wonwoo being a menace and me attempting to be funny

WORD COUNT || 14.5k (probably my most massive work till now)

A/N || This is the first time I’m seriously writing for seventeen so I’m just going to consider this as my first full length svt fic. Please do tell me your thoughts!! I had a blast writing this one so I hope you all enjoy it as much as i did! Also, advanced birthday gift (or really belated?) to my bestest friend Ni @jaynaur . I hope we continue to be friends for million years more. Thank you for sticking with me for all these years, I honestly couldn’t ask for anyone better.

TAGLIST || @misssugarlips @loevngyuno [thank you for being interested!]

“You are going to burn holes into his face.”

Kwon Soonyoung hissed into your ears, causing you to glare at him. He raised his eyebrows, as though challenging you and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m not staring at him, I’m just…worried.”

“Worried he’s going to end up sleeping with her?”

“Shut up, Kwon.” You muttered, eyes back onto your best friend, whom you were sure was going to regret every single action the next day. If he remembered, that is. True, the last few weeks had been extremely stressful for him, but to see the reserved Jeon Wonwoo you knew become drunk and act this wild was something new even to you, despite being his best friend for more than ten years.

To the eyes that barely knew him, Wonwoo would come as a tsundere male lead, quiet and perfect in every way. A man who had control of all his movement, and thus also every single girl’s heart. Undoubtedly, he was very handsome. But you knew that the man you called your best friend was far behind the romantic hot heartthrob everyone painted him to be. In fact, he probably had a certificate in the loser department hidden in his bedroom. He was nowhere close to perfection and was too laid back in life. What time should have been spent in getting a social life (you were sure he would have been an alpha male if he had just put in a little more effort) was instead used in levelling up in games.

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. He had been on the dance floor for the past two hours, which was definitely not a Wonwoo-like characteristic. Right now he was aggressively moving his shoulders while awkwardly jerking his head. You were a hundred percent sure if this had been any other normal situation, he would have been very much flustered and embarrassed. But the high level of intoxication in his blood must have made him lose all his senses. As you watched Wonwoo pull out another fancy move (much to the delight of the crowd of girls surrounding him), a completely unrelated question popped into your head. Where had he even learnt those moves from?

“He asked Chan to teach him a few steps, but I guess Chan thought he wasn’t serious.” Soonyoung replied. You let out a small ‘I see’, embarrassed that you had accidentally said your thoughts out loud. When had he asked Chan to teach him? Was there any particular reason? And why hadn’t he told you about this before?

“It is quite shocking. I always thought Wonwoo was the guy who always kept to himself and his comic books.” Soonyoung said. To his friends and you, it was definitely a new thing, but clearly the crowd didn’t think so judging from the squeals erupting around him.

“Did he say why did he suddenly want to learn how to dance?” You asked this time. The boy next to you shrugged, nonchalantly chugging down another drink from the red plastic cups. You grimaced, wondering how people even liked drinking. You personally hated parties and loud music but you didn’t mind if it meant hanging out with your friends. But no one mentioned that today’s party would involve even other people. Still, you managed to keep your sanity throughout the party just trying to enjoy yourself with your friends.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I highly doubt that he wanted to learn to dance on the dance floor. Hey, maybe he was trying to impress you?” Soonyoung grinned at you wickedly.

“Excuse me?” You choked on the chip you had just begun eating.

“Everyone can see the uwu heart eyes you two give each other.”

“And this wrong insight into things is exactly why everyone supports the anti horanghae agenda instead.”

Soonyoung pouted at you and you let out a laugh, your irritation melting away at his cute reaction. You patted his back before adding, “Don’t worry. I’m for the horanghae agenda. It’s absolutely priceless to see the disgust on Minghao and Jihoon’s faces. I will always support you in your endeavour just to provoke them.”

“Y/N! I thought you were my friend!”

You laughed once more before turning your attention back to the dance floor. For a second you panicked when you couldn’t find Wonwoo. He was already an awkward man in front of girls (a point girls often misunderstood thinking he was avoiding them because he was a frat boy who didn’t flirt unless absolutely necessary), and you doubted if he would like a drunk mistake to be the reason he stopped showing his face to the college.

Relief flooded you when you finally found him at the corner of the room with some random girl you knew by face (you weren’t that good with interacting but that was beside the point here). But that relief turned back into panic as you watched the girl unzip his leather jacket and discard it, hands moving for his shirt.

“And that is my cue to leave.” You nodded to Soonyoung who seemed to be enjoying this moment. Now you weren’t the type to meddle into your best friend’s love life (which had been non existent till now) but if the said best friend was a shy anime-lover boy with no alcohol control and was about to drunk make out with someone he had just met, you were going to be the supportive friend you were and save the little dignity he might have left after this night.

Picking his jacket up from the floor, you accidentally rammed into the couple, causing both of them to stumble in daze.

“Ah, Wonwoo! I was looking for you! Come one, we need to leave, you have a mini test tomorrow, remember?”

Wonwoo blinked at you in confusion, and you just smiled at the girl before pulling him out of the crowded place. You ignored her screaming about tomorrow being a Sunday and focused on getting the two of you safely out of a room filled with drunk people. It was hard pulling a drunk man who kept stumbling on his own leg but you finally made it out of the stuffy place without losing each other.

When the cool night air finally hit the two of you, you let go of his hand and let out a sigh.

“Thanks.” He muttered beside you, though you were not exactly sure what he was thanking you for, since you were sure he was having a blast back at the party. You glanced at him and tsked, annoyed by his choice of clothing. He was just wearing a sleeveless shirt and skinny jeans, clearly shivering in the cold night air. His hair was slightly messed up and his glasses were hanging at his nose tip.

“You shouldn’t have taken this off.” You said handing him back his jacket. He just draped it around his shoulders before giving you a lopsided drunk smile.

You wondered what all the girls would say when the drunk Wonwoo they had envisioned was nothing like the real drunk Wonwoo you knew. True, he did sensibly drink all the time, but today he seemed to have let go and judging by his flushed face, you were glad you got him out of the party before he committed a stupid mistake.

You began walking towards your dorm when Wonwoo called you.

“Y/N.”

Turning back at him, you looked at him questioningly, asking him to continue.

“Come here for a second.” But before you could walk to him, he himself stumbled towards you, looking eager to tell whatever was in his mind.

You frowned and gently pushed his glasses up so that he didn’t strain himself to see through them.

All of a sudden, Wonwoo grabbed your hand to pull you in closer, filling the few centimetres you had in between each other. Your eyes widened in shock when you felt his lips brush against yours. He immediately pressed his lips on your lips, your eyes fluttering close at the sudden feeling of warmth.

A million different thoughts were running through your head but they all seemed to be drowned out by an exploding feeling in your heart. You inhaled his scent; a mixture of alcohol and the comforting smell that always lingered around him; and felt the world stop for a second.

Wonwoo’s lips moved against yours and that seemed to jolt you back to the present.

Pushing him away as hard as you could, you gasped harshly, wondering what had you done. How could he kiss you? How could you kiss him when he was drunk?

You shook your head violently once, trying to dismiss the thought as an accidental drunk mistake, just like the one Wonwoo was going to commit a few minutes ago back at the party.

And yet, the adrenaline rushing in your veins still hadn’t subdued. You felt like you were the one who was drunk and not him, heart beating erratically at the very thought of the kiss. Fanning your heated cheeks, you dismissed the thought once more. This was a mistake. It had to be. There was no way you could feel such emotions for your best friend with whom, you had just admitted a few minutes ago, you were completely platonic with.

“Come on, Wonwoo.” You muttered, not bothering to grab his hand this time and hoping he would just follow you.

Neither of you spoke as you traced your paths back to your dorms, the silence breaking sometimes only by Wonwoo’s incoherent mutterings. You didn’t even bother looking back to check whether he was right behind you, trusting that the dragging footsteps were his.

“Mingyu!” You yelled as a familiar figure ran past you into the building. Kim Mingyu stopped and turned back at you, looking drunk but not as finished as the man who stumbled into a halt and used your shoulder as a support for his dropping head. You felt your cheeks heat up once more and then and there you decided you couldn’t go on like this even for a second. “Take your roommate up with you will you? I’m tired of dragging him around.”

Mingyu gave you a thumbs up and the two of you bid each other goodbye, and you nearly ran from there, not bothering to see if they had even entered the building. You prayed that the night air would cool your cheeks down because you were sure that your roommate was still awake, judging by the lights you could see from outside the building.

You tried sneaking in quietly, not wanting to disturb the older girl who was still studying. Final year of college was hard with assignments and campus recruitments and you didn’t want to be a burden to a person whom you had labelled as your other best friend.

“What’s wrong?” Kim Taeyeon asked, turning away from her books to look at you trying to hide under your covers as quickly as you could.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You haven’t even removed your socks yet. Did something happen?”

Oh.

“I-” You began and stopped, flustered at how you should continue. Was it his mistake? Was it yours? Taeyeon got up and sat at the foot of your bed, patiently waiting for you to continue. You felt bad that you were distracting from her studies but you felt that if you didn’t get some advice on how to handle this situation, you would lose all your precious sleep (sleep was your real best friend).

“Say hypothetically, your friend gets kissed by her drunk best friend and she kisses him back. What should your friend do in that situation? Pretend like nothing happened? Confront him about it?”

“Wonwoo kissed you?”

“Ye- No! I said a hypothetical friend. What? Wonwoo is such a reserved man. Does he look like someone who loses control while drinking? And do I look like a person who takes advantage of her drunk friend?” You said, glad of the fake character people had created of your best friend.

“So Wonwoo did kiss you. Besides, you don’t really have many friends, let alone a hypothetical one that could be in this situation.”

“Thanks for the reality check.” You muttered. Taeyeon came and sat beside you, patting you as an indicator to go on.

“He-he was drunk.” You babbled, not even sure what or whom you were trying to justify. “He just leaned in and I- I kissed him back. Oh my god. Is that assault? Did I just assault my best friend?”

“Hey calm down, Y/N. You were taken aback. I highly doubt he will even remember what happened tomorrow judging by how drunk he sounds. You don’t need to mention it to him if you feel like that’s going to ruin the atmosphere between the two of you. But if you feel like you are too uncomfortable being with him, then the two of you can talk it out. Wonwoo is a sensible man so I’m sure you both will come to an understanding.”

You nodded, still feeling jittery about the entire situation. Exchanging good nights, the two of you went back to your own routines. Taeyeon went back to her study table while you got dressed for bed. Slipping in under your sheets, you tried to clear your thoughts by taking a deep breath in.

It’s okay. You thought to yourself. He probably won’t even remember it tomorrow. Now let’s just get some good night’s sleep, shall we?

Turns out you had terrible prediction skills.

You had tossed and turned the entire night, worry eating you up as though the next day was your mathematics exam and you had forgotten to study the entirety of calculus. So you definitely did not get a good night’s sleep as you had wished for. To make matters worse, Wonwoo called you up at 5 in the morning for a ‘hangover’ run.

So here you were, sitting on a bench as your best friend jogged up to you, handing you over a drink.

“Thanks.” You huffed, taking a quick sip of the cold drink to cool yourself down. He sat down beside you, arms brushing and all of a sudden you were hyper aware of how close the two of you were.

It was funny how a small action at a drunk college party had changed the entire way you used to look at your best friend. You both had practically grown up together and it had never really mattered to you how close the two of you were (sure you had an aversion towards touch but Wonwoo was…well, Wonwoo). Never did you think you would get flustered when you meet him or even avoid his eye contact.

But this morning when you first came out of your dorm, he was already waiting for you outside. He seemed unbothered by your appearance, and a small part of you was glad because he didn’t seem to remember what had happened. And yet, it took you sometime to be able to meet his eyes again without your cheeks heating up and giving you away.

The two of you jogged for sometime in silence before you got tired and decided to take a break. He had even wordlessly gone and got you a drink and now you were getting a feeling that he definitely did not remember anything. So you decided to ask him about it.

“Did you enjoy yourself yesterday?”

“Huh?” He looked at you surprised. “You mean at the party?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t remember actually.” He replied, pushing his specs up his nose by its frame bridge. The action caused your stomach to flip, as though you had just been dropped from a roller coaster. “I guess I drank too much. Did I go too wild?”

Only when Wonwoo had raised his eyebrows at you did you realise that you had been staring at him. You quickly turned your head away from him, praying you weren’t looking as flustered as you felt.

Had he always been this handsome?

“Uh, yeah kind of? I mean…you were going to make out with some random girl if I hadn't pulled you away.”

“Thanks.” He muttered, sounding embarrassed. You looked at him and he was looking down, unable to meet your eyes. A laughter escaped you when you realised how adorable he looked, looking flustered.

Wait, what?

He looked up at you and smiled sheepishly, muttering a small sorry. Wonwoo continued talking but his voice was drowned out by the wind whistling against your ears. How had you never noticed the cute way his nose scrunched up when he smiled too much or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed out too loud? Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realised that you had always known these little details but had never put too much thought into it, as though you had taken him for granted.

Wonwoo waved a hand in front of your face, jolting you back to the present.

“You okay?” He asked, sounding a little concerned. “You’ve been slightly distracted since morning. Are you sure nothing happened at the party?”

“Yeah.” You scratched your neck awkwardly, determined to keep a straight face and not look away. There was no way he could know what you were thinking now unless you wanted to make things awkward between the two of you.

He stood up, pulling you up with him and the touch of his warm hand on your elbow seemed to send sparks through your body. The chilly wind whipped through the air, ruffling Wonwoo’s freshly dyed white blond hair. It was almost illegal how good he looked like this, with messy hair and wearing just loose comfortable clothes.

Your reactions seemed to have slowed down because all you could do was stare and gulp at your best friend when his hands slipped into yours, giving your hand a comforting squeeze. You felt your heart beat nearly stutter at this gesture, and he pulled you in closer.

For a second you got a wild sense of deja vu, a small part of you was afraid that the two of you were going to kiss again but Wonwoo just smiled softly at you.

The whistling of the wind died in your ears as you stared at him. You couldn’t feel anything, except for the tingling sensation of where your hands and shoulders met with his. The birds too seemed to have stopped chirping because the surrounding seemed too quiet, and you were sure he could hear your loudly thumping heart too.

A stream of sunlight fell on Wonwoo, giving him a soft angelic glow. Right now, everything seemed so perfect, so perfect that you wondered why you had even thought that he was a big loser in the first place. Because for you right, Jeon Wonwoo looked like a goddamned angel who had graced you with his presence.

And then it hit you.

You felt as though your breath had been stolen away when the realisation finally dawned on you.

You were in love.

You were in love with your best friend, Jeon Wonwoo.

Suddenly everything you had been feeling made complete sense to you. How could you have not realised it until now? It was as though the answer had always been dangling in front of you but you had failed to grasp it. You thought of all the times you had spent with him and while that might seem like normal things between two best friends, you realised that no one could ever understand you so perfectly well, no one could make you smile like he did and no one ever supported you like he did when you were down. He knew you as perfectly as you knew him, like two jigsaw puzzles fitted together without which the picture would be incomplete. And right now, you couldn’t even imagine loving someone as much as you had always loved him.

It had always been Wonwoo but you had never realised it.

“You know you can tell me everything, right?” He asked, his quiet voice causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach as he gently rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb. You gulped, closing your eyes as you nodded a ‘yes’ to him. So that he didn’t suspect anything, you removed your hand from his grasp slowly, the warmth of his touch suddenly gone. You already missed his touch but you doubted whether your heart could take anymore.

Your head was still spinning from the sudden realisation that had hit you like a truck and the only way you could think of clearing your thoughts was by getting away from Wonwoo, the very person who usually stuck by your side in such stressing emotions.

But this was something you would have to deal with on your own. Because you were a thousand percent sure that he did not love you back.

“Wonwoo,” you said, looking at him with a smile. “I'm a bit tired since you called me up so early. Do you mind if I go back? It’s a Sunday and I still have assignments so I would like to catch up with my beloved sleep a bit.”

“Sure, I’m so sorry Y/N-”

“No need to apologise. Thank you for bringing out my lazy ass though.”

You were glad that he got the indication that you wanted some quiet time alone (of course he would, why wouldn’t he?) and the walk back to your dorms was a quiet one too. He didn’t press the matter anymore, figuring out you would tell him when the right time came and you were comfortable about sharing with him.

If only he knew.

As soon as you got back to your room, you plopped yourself onto your bed, not even bothering to take off your clothes. You were glad Taeyeon wasn’t there in the room currently, because you were sure you might crumble if you met any other human being, Taeyeon or Wonwoo included.

A sigh left your mouth as you processed everything that had just happened. A small accidental drunk kiss which could have potentially ruined your friendship was now actually going to ruin your friendship.

There was no way that he loved you back. Sure he loved you platonically but never ever in a romantic way. He had never dropped a single hint nor did he ever give you a second to doubt that he might have feelings for you. Hell, you were pretty sure you weren’t even his first crush.

And knowing Jeon Wonwoo, you were pretty sure he would still be unbothered if you showed up naked in front of him. If he didn’t remember what had happened yesterday, there was no way he would know that something between the two of you had changed, right?

Groaning internally, you cursed Wonwoo for kissing you and setting off explosions of emotions in your heart.

Taking a deep breath in, you calmed yourself down.

Come on, Y/N. You thought to yourself. You can solve coding problems but you can’t solve this little emotional problem? You’ve been through worse! You can do this!

Okay, step one. Avoid Jeon Wonwoo for a while.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder but you were sure that this little crush (you decided to call this dump load of love as little crush) would disappear if you avoided him like the plague. If you were away from his warmth, handsome face, not-so-funny funny jokes and his overall caring demeanour, you were sure you could beat this fluttering emotion (life was a competition and you were not going to lose). Of course, you wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever without making him suspicious so you just had to avoid the times only when the two of you would hang out, instead of with the group.

Step two. Research on the type of girls Wonwoo might like and avoid those characteristics.

You whipped out your phone to go through your gallery, hoping to find some hint about the type of girls he hung out with, even if it was a five minute interaction. You had a whole gallery dedicated to him because the amount of blackmail material you had collected on him was completely worth it. Scrolling through some of the pictures you had secretly taken of him (all for blackmail purposes), you felt a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

He looked so adorable, his then shaggy hair falling partly over his eyes, but nothing could stop the sparkle in them as he smiled at the new kitten he had just rescued. He looked ethereal, causing your heart to flutter at the memory of him smiling at you as you snapped a quick photo to commemorate the occasion of him getting his hundredth cat.

Wait, what?

That wasn't part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to fall for him harder, you were supposed to see the kind of girl he likes and maybe laugh at some of the troll pictures you had taken of him. You did laugh at some of them, but now, instead of them being downright funny you could feel a warm sensation of adoration as you laughed.

“Fuck you, Jeon Wonwoo.” You muttered, throwing your phone across the bed and screwing your eyes shut in defeat. That’s it. You were down bad for him.

“Yeah, I was kind of waiting for that to happen.”

You sat up straight faster than the time Taeyeon said your results were posted right in front of the campus. Immediately, you scowled at the newcomer who took this as an invitation to stride into your room, closing the door behind him as he dropped on your bed beside you.

“How did you even get inside the girl’s dormitory?”

“I didn’t see you in the mess so I asked Taeyeon about it. She said you were probably bawling your eyes out about something in your room and she herself gave me a pass to enter the dorm.” Kwon Soonyoung explained himself and you rolled your eyes. “So spill the tea sis. Why do you want to fuck Jeon Wonwoo that badly even though we kind of knew it was going to happen eventually?”

“Why won’t you tell us?” Soonyoung wailed, shaking you aggressively. You rolled your eyes at his dramatic behaviour, partially embarrassed as some students passing by looked at your group curiously. You wondered if this was the right time to pretend that you didn’t know either of them.

“First of all, I did not agree to tell you anything. You just assumed it on your own. Second of all, there’s no way I’m telling you, Seungkwan and Chan.”

You had been suspicious when Soonyoung said he would round up his emotional support buddies but you did not expect it to be Seungkwan and Chan, definitely some of the biggest anti-secret keepers. Hell, you might have even considered telling them if at least Seokmin was there.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, grabbing his iced americano and standing up. “It was kind of obvious she wouldn’t tell all of us, Soonyoung. At least you could have heard the secret and told us behind her back.”

“I’m still here Seungkwan.”

“Your point?”

“Come on, Y/N.” Chan urged, his expression that of a genuine friend who was ready to listen to you. “If something is weighing you down, you can always tell us. I promise you that I’ll tape up Soonyoung and Seungkwan’s mouths so that they don’t spread it.”

“Yeah, we promise too.” Seungkwan said, Soonyoung agreeing beside him. You sighed for the millionth time that day, debating whether or not you should risk telling them. You really needed some advice on this matter, especially from someone who knew both you and Wonwoo well. But before you could even open your mouth to speak, Soonyoung cut you off.

“Do you have a crush on Wonwoo?”

Your silence seemed to be enough for them.

“Wait, that is the problem? I’m sorry, but did you just realise it now?” Seungkwan asked. “I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him. I thought you had it figured out a long time ago but you were just keeping quiet about it.”

“I-I just realised it yesterday! And it's all his fault! He drunk kissed me-”

“Wait, wait, wait. He did what?” Soonyoung jumped up excitedly, as though he was the one who had been kissed by Wonwoo. “He kissed you? Wonwoo fucking kissed you? The Jeon Wonwoo I know?”

“Relax, Soonyoung. It’s not like they had sex or something.”

“Seungkwan!”

“Do you want to ignore your feelings because you are worried that this might ruin your friendship with him?” Chan asked, currently being the only logical one in the group. “Or do you want to take this a step higher but you don’t know if he likes you back?

“I don’t know. I…don’t want to ruin our friendship. I don’t want to ruin anything between us. Wonwoo doesn’t even like me that way, it’s obvious.” You said nervously, not even sure what you wanted. “But now that you say it, the first option looks more appealing.”

“Hey, don’t be like that.” Soonyoung swatted your arm. “Because I’m a thousand percent sure that even Wonwoo likes you. I’ve never seen him look so whipped for anyone who isn’t you. Not even at anime girls.”

“And we all know your inference skills are god tier judging from the last mafia game where you kicked out doctor Mingyu just because you were a thousand percent sure mafia Seokmin was a citizen.” Seungkwan reminded him.

“Yeah, you are really bad at this Soonyoung.” You muttered in agreement, but your mind was occupied by what he had said. Wonwoo looked whipped for you?

“Not to disagree with Seungkwan but I think Soonyoung might be right? I’ve honestly never seen Wonwoo be more comfortable with anyone other than you.”

You looked around your surroundings, the bench and tree you four were sitting under resembling the one you and Wonwoo had sat on just this morning. You replayed the entire scene in your head once more. What would have happened if you hadn’t realised that you were in love with your best friend? Would everything have been normal between the two of you? Would the drunk kiss just turn into a laughable memory for the two of you to share later on?

Thinking back reminded you of how comfortable the two of you were together, the main reason you were in love with him. Then you stood up, making up your mind.

“I’m not going to chase him.” You said firmly, giving a bitter smile to the three boys around you. “I can’t afford to lose him or even make him feel uncomfortable. Thank you for listening to me and bearing my secret. I guess you guys will have to become my emotional support buddies too.”

“Y/N, we can probably think of some way-”

“Maybe stalk Wonwoo and find out if he likes you-”

“Or just take slow steps and-”

The three of them burst into suggestions, causing your heart to clench. You were glad you had such wonderful caring friends, how much ever annoying or sarcastic they were at times. You waved them a final goodbye.

“I’m fine, really. I’ll keep you guys updated. Thanks for your time but I need to sort out my feelings for now.”

You ignored their protests and walked back to your dorm, the heavy weight burdening you caused your shoulder to slump more with each and every step. If you thought yesterday night had been a whirlwind of emotions then today had been a tsunami. Not only had you realised you were in love with your best friend of many years for the longest of times but you had almost immediately doused that fire in your heart in order to not ruin your friendship with him. Taking two such big decisions in a span of a few hours was enough to melt anyone and you felt like a ticking time bomb that could explode any moment now if you didn’t get some proper rest.

Finally, you reached the corridor of your dorm and froze, a familiar figure standing on your door with a huge packet in his hand.

Jeon Wonwoo raised his hand to knock on your door when he just happened to turn his head in your direction, blocking any chance of escape now. He immediately broke into a smile, face lighting up as though he was waiting for you. It definitely did nothing to stop your heart from stuttering or to stop the smile that automatically appeared on your lips.

All of a sudden you realised what you were doing, and cleared your throat awkwardly. This definitely wasn’t a way to stop your crush on him.

“Hey Wonwoo.” You said softly, unlocking your door and beckoning him inside.

“Hey, how are you feeling? You weren’t at the breakfast table so I kind of got worried and bought you some of your favourite food.” You didn’t know how warm Wonwoo could make you feel with his small gestures until now and you were glad that you had just sat down on your bed because you were sure your jellied knees were about to give away.

Wonwoo followed suit but only after pulling the small coffee table towards your bed and placing the packet on it. You could feel his body heat despite the two layers of clothes between your skins. The familiar smell of his softener comforted you and you turned your attention onto the food, hoping it would act as a distraction from the fact that Wonwoo was just a few centimetres apart from you.

“So what did you get me?” You asked, rubbing your hands as the aroma drifted to you.

“Your favourite of course. Sushi.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “But sushi is your favourite though?”

“What are you talking about, Y/N? I thought we both liked it?” Rolling your eyes at his grinning face, you unpacked the packet yourself. The smell of the sandwich hit you before you had even taken it out. Wonwoo had bought you egg sandwiches and your favourite yoghurt. Only after you had taken a bite did you realise how hungry you were after all that thinking and skipping breakfast.

“So,” Wonwoo said after finishing his sandwich and picking up a yoghurt. “Are Soonyoung and Seungkwan bullying you?”

You choked on your food as laughter escaped you. “W-What?” You laughed, looking at him and Wonwoo was smiling at you too. “Don’t worry, they aren’t that mean to me.”

“Good to know. In case they try to rope you into their illegal cult, let me know. I’ll get you out of there.”

“Sure, after all, you are my knight in shining armour.” The words were out of your mouth before you could even control yourself. You thought you saw Wonwoo’s smile falter for a fraction of second, but his eyes still had the same expression so you ignored it, thinking maybe it was just your imagination.

“It’s good to see you laugh. You looked so tense in the morning.”

“I did? I guess I was still reeling from the aftermath of a drunk Wonwoo.” Which…wasn’t a lie technically. He leaned back on your bed, grinning at you with all his teeth on display. Was it that amusing? “Don’t do that ever again. It could have been a disaster.” (It already had, in your opinion)

“Tell me about the random girl I was going to make out with.”

“What?” The question had taken you aback as that was the least expected one from him. The Wonwoo you knew wouldn’t have wanted to delve into the details of what he would consider an embarrassing course of action. He wasn’t even sounding concerned or worried right now. If anything, he seemed interested.

“The girl I was going to make out with. Do you know her? Was she cute?”

And you felt a bubble of annoyance burst at the pit of your stomach. Why was he asking you that? And why was he so interested in her all of a sudden?

Amidst the thousand questions popping up in your mind, you were slightly aware that right now you were probably feeling a bit jealous. Never had you thought you would get jealous if Wonwoo had a girlfriend but seeing him so interested in someone when he had never even looked at you as someone he might consider as his date, even for prom back in high school was making you feel jealous.

“Why?” You asked cautiously, careful not to show your annoyance in your tone. Apparently jealousy was another feeling you would have to check now, whenever you were with him.

“Simply. I vaguely remember her being cute so I wanted to get to know her more. To see if she's my type.”

“Well then why don’t you ask some of the guys for her number? Joshua might know.” You said, clearly annoyed now. Standing up, you began picking up your empty cups and wrappers. “Sorry I interrupted you two then. You could have found a potential girlfriend but I ruined your chance for you to sleep with someone.”

Now you were sounding just plain bitter. Walking towards the trash can, you took a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself down. You cannot get jealous now. Especially not when you had literally just found out your feelings a few hours ago. How much ever it hurt listening to your best friend ramble about some hot girl he wished to have more than a hookup with, you had to pretend to be the supporting best friend and not get in his way.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo’s voice came from behind, laced with worry. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Yeah, you made me realise I have feelings for you which isn’t technically something wrong ‘you’ did.

“No it’s just that,” you turned towards him and forced a smile on your face. He looked so worried that you cursed yourself for getting your jealousy on the way and nearly hurting him. “I feel like you're not appreciating me enough for all the hard work I did yesterday night.”

“I bought you breakfast?”

“I knew there was something suspicious when you said you were worried I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Don’t make me such a bad best friend.” He said with an exaggerated sadness but you were more fixated on the last few words he had said.

There you go. Best friend. That’s what he would always see you as and that’s what the two of you would always be. Never anything more than that and never crossing the thin line between friendship and love.

But still that didn’t stop you from accepting his hug. His warmth engulfed you as his familiar scent took over your senses. It was so comforting that you almost melted in his embrace, his touch giving you comfort for the first time in the day although he was the one who had caused you the distress.

It reminded you of the million times you had hugged before this. Sometimes it was because of happiness and sometimes it was to provide comfort to each other. Jeon Wonwoo had been your saving grace, the anchor to your ship in the vast ocean of challenges and hardships just like how you had been his. You couldn’t think of any future without Wonwoo, it seemed to be impossible to have come so far without him as your best friend.

You loved him so much that even thinking about it made your heart clench painfully. How could you not? He was everything you could have ever wanted for and with this thought you hugged him back tightly, as though never wanting to let go.

“Don’t worry.” You whispered back. “You’ll always be my best friend.”

You walked into the lecture hall fashionably late on purpose (but still before the professor, you were not going to taint your record though you had already prepared an excuse about Monday mornings being tough), hoping that all the good seats would be taken and you wouldn't have to sit beside Wonwoo.

But as your best friend was faithful and loyal to you, he had saved you a seat right beside him.

“Here, Y/N!” He patted at the seat beside him when you pretended that you didn’t see him and was going to go past him. Giving him a smile as a thank you, you sat down beside him and unpacked your things, wondering how come you never noticed how good Wonwoo looked in casuals.

The class went by faster than you had expected and very soon the professor was giving the project details for your first semester.

“It will be in groups of two and you are free to make your own groups. Just give me a list of your group names by the end of the day please.”

There were collective groans from everyone and even your mind was in a whirlwind. Two people meant that by default you and Wonwoo would be a group together. But that would also mean you would have to spend extra time with him, and that would thaw your plans of avoiding him.

So before Wonwoo could ask you whether he should write the two of your names and submit or you would, you turned back and grabbed Seungcheol’s hand.

“Seungcheol!” You beamed at him, your smile a little bit too bright (you could see even he was terrified by this sudden outburst but you ignored it.) You knew he and Jeonghan would probably pair up together but this was your safest bet of finding a person who would agree to be your partner since the four of you were already close friends. In that way, you wouldn't completely be leaving Wonwoo in the dark since he could pair up with Jeonghan. “Do you have a partner yet?”

“Er, not yet? But me and-”

“That’s great. Then you can be my partner!”

Silence followed as the three men stared at you. Somehow, you felt Wonwoo’s shocked and probably betrayed expression so you didn’t dare to turn towards him but kept your eyes on Seungcheol. He and Jeonghan looked confused at this but neither of them seemed to want to ask you about it either.

“Uh, okay? If that’s what you want. Then I guess Jeonghan and Wonwoo can be teammates.”

“Okay, students!” The professor’s voice boomed and the four of you turned your attention back to him. You could feel Wonwoo’s eyes still on you as though waiting for an explanation but you ignored him. A small part of you was a little sad as you had done pretty much every project with your best friend and the two of you always had a mutual understanding of things which made it easier to finish them but you were still glad that you wouldn’t have to see him much in this way. Once your feelings were completely gone (if they were), you would then apologise to him and hang out with him just like the good old days. “Since some of you complained that two people is too less for the project, I’ve decided to change it to four.”

Oh no. Oh no.

It was as though the universe was determined to foil each and every single of your plan to avoid Wonwoo and make you suffer. Why did he have to change it like that? Hell, when all of you had complained about the individual power point being too hard and begged him to change it to a group assignment he had just lectured you all for being terribly irresponsible students. So why now? You were even willing to listen to your professor ramble for an hour about the need and requirement of responsible citizens for the society if that meant not pairing up with the cute guy sitting beside you.

“Y/N.” You heard Jeonghan call you out and you turned slowly to the three of them. “Let’s four pair up together, okay?”

You nodded, laughing awkwardly at the turn of events. So much for avoiding Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo opened his mouth to speak but right at that time you heard the professor say ‘class dismissed’. Yelling a ‘later’ at him, you picked your things up and darted out of the room, not even bothering to dump your things in your bag.

You tried running out of the classroom but people seemed to think it was fine to chat and take their own sweet time, blocking the entrance.

“Um, excuse me. I need to get-”

“Y/N, wait up!” You heard the familiar voice yell at you. “You forgot your computer textbook!”

Now that made you stop. Why did you forget it? Slowly, you turned back towards Wonwoo, a sheepish smile plastered on your face. He smiled at you, as though unbothered by the fact he had practically run away from him.

“Thanks, sorry I left it behind.” You said, noticing that even he didn’t have the chance to put his things in his bag and was carrying them in his hands.

“Crowd not letting you go?” He asked, eyes scanning the crowd before they landed back on you. He let out a sigh and pushed his specs back again, you now finding the action very endearing. He held out his books to you, making you look at him in confusion.

“Hold these.” He said, dumping them in your arms.

Then before you could ask what’s wrong, Wonwoo got down on his knees and reached out for your now untied shoelaces. You felt heat creep up your neck as he continued tying your lace, unbothered by the fact that almost everyone was now staring at the two of you. But that was who Wonwoo was, wasn’t he? He never let others' comments or views affect him much and you had always admired him for that.

Jeonghan let out a wolf whistle when he was done and stood up, taking his books from your hands. “Shall we go?” He asked, casually stirring you away from the crowd (but that didn’t stop you from giving a death glare to a smug Jeonghan and a now giggling Seungcheol).

Wonwoo helped you push through the crowd, which wasn’t much considering the fact everyone had parted to make a way for you two as though you were a couple walking on the red carpet. You could still feel your ears burning and as soon as the two of you turned towards a less filled hallway, you gave him a slight push.

“What was that?” You demanded, not sure whether or not you should be mad at him. It wasn’t that he had never tied your shoelaces for you before; he had and had even scolded you for being so careless. But him doing it now in front of everyone made it feel somehow different. It felt like something a boyfriend would do, not a best friend.

Wonwoo raised his eyebrows at you before speaking .”You are the one to talk. First you avoid me in the class when you always sit beside me. Then after that you all of a sudden want to pair up with Seungcheol? I get it I’m weak at coding but still-”

“It’s not because of that.” You blurted out, then cursed yourself mentally. How were you supposed to explain this to him? You should have known from the beginning that your plan would be foiled because Wonwoo was too observant for his own good.

“Then what is it? What is making you avoid me? Did I say something to you at the party? Did I do something wrong? Because if I did, I’m sorry. I really am. But unless you tell me, I won’t know what it is and I can’t even apologise or make amends to you properly!” He snapped, clearly done with your behaviour. You felt that there was a hint of panic laced in his voice, but maybe it was just your desperate imagination hoping he wasn’t that hurt.

But why wouldn’t he be? He had all the right to. Hell, if you had been in his place you too would have been mad at this unexplainable behaviour.

“I’m sorry Wonwoo.” You muttered, looking at your feet. “I just- I just don’t know where to start. Something happened and it’s overwhelmingly a lot to take in to be honest. Believe me, it’s killing me not being able to tell you too but I just can’t. Not until I’m sure. Not until I’m ready. Please believe me.” You were practically whispering by now, the tears threatening to spill out. Either way it was still your fault if your friendship got ruined.

You felt his strong hands grip your shoulder gently, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey.” He said softly, causing you to look up at him. Wonwoo was looking at you concerned and yet so lovingly as though he would always be by your side no matter what. You felt your knees go weak as your heart gave another painful squeeze, reminding you why the two of you were in this sudden sticky situation. “It’s okay, alright? I just…don’t know how to fix this if I don’t even know what’s the problem. But it’s okay. You don’t need to force yourself. I’ll just…I’ll just try to remember or ask someone what I did-”

“You didn’t do anything-”

“No.” He said firmly. “I know I did something. That’s the only explanation to this, Y/N. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.” Now he sounded miserable and helpless. You could see that he was blaming himself for whatever was happening between the two of you right now. You could see he was worried about you and what he might have done.

And it hurt you seeing him like this.

This was all your fault. You shouldn’t have thought of avoiding him. For your selfish feelings to disappear, you had nearly ended up hurting Wonwoo more. How could you even think of such a stupid idea in the first place? There was no way the two of you could be separated.

Then as though by impulse, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His comforting body heat engulfed you once more, making you almost crave for more of his touch. The fact that you hated hugs unless they were from Jeon Wonwoo lingered in the back of your mind but all logical reasoning was lost when he hugged you back.

You felt safe, and as pathetic it sounded, you felt content and loved. As though this simple hug was more than enough for you and you didn’t need to be labelled as a couple. It felt dumb now, thinking how you thought you could even survive by avoiding Wonwoo.

“Oh, Woo.” You whispered, using the nickname you had picked a long time ago for him. “Please don’t beat yourself up for this. I won’t stop you from finding out on your own. But I don’t think I can tell you about it now. “

He gently patted your back and you closed your eyes, enjoying the moment as you felt yourself relax at his touch. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me now.”

The two of you stood like that for quite some time, just enjoying each other’s presence. You were sure he could feel your heart hammering but neither of you seemed to want to let go.

“Just promise me one thing.” Wonwoo broke the silence first, and you hummed, urging him to continue. “You won’t ever choose Seungcheol over me as your partner just because I’m bad at coding.”

“Hmmm.” You pretended to think, breaking away from his grasp. “But I might consider choosing Jeonghan though.”

“Good luck with your new best friend then I guess.”

“Wonwoo come back! I’m just kidding!”

“Hey, you okay?”

Seulgi’s voice snapped you back to the present, making you realise that pretty much everyone (five to be specific) were staring at you.

“Uh, yeah.” You cleared your throat and sat up straighter, wondering if you had missed any question. “Sorry. Just a little…tired.”

Taeyeon’s eyes flicked to yours and an unspoken understanding took place between the two of you. You were so glad that you had such a mature roommate who always took care of you.

Usually, you loved attending your club meetings. After a long day of studying it seemed the most relaxing way to unwind without locking up yourself in your room. Your clubmates were fun and great friends (making it more like an open-discussion-for-all-your-troubles club). But today, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t concentrate on today's debate session of three eyes versus three legs.

The Science club, or as known to the world as the Science Fan Club, had been opened by Kim Kibum, when he got into an argument with the real Science Club president, Kim Jungwoo and got kicked out of the Club with a ban for life sticker on his hand. And he, being a young man full of burning passion (and petty spiteful revenge) decided to start a science club of his own.

And like any other great (self-proclaimed) leader, Kibum too had faced many tough challenges on his way. For starters, there could not be two clubs with the same name so he had to get a little creative. And secondly, no one was willing to join this club so at the end he practically had to beg (read black mail) some of you to join.

So now there were just the six of you in the club, but somehow that made this club of yours more endearing. Kang Seulgi, Kim Taeyeon, Lee Taemin, Kim Kibum and lastly Boo Seungkwan was definitely saved under the favourites list in your contacts (Except Taemin because he had been saved under the ‘never call unless absolute emergency’ list).

Kibum let out the most dramatic sigh ever as though he was the one facing the crisis of being in love with his best friend and not you. “Y/N, you know you can tell us everything right?”

That definitely increased your confidence because Kim Kibum and Boo Seungkwan were notoriously not called the ‘gossiping besties’. It wasn’t a secret that if either of the two (and if your luck was bad maybe even both) got hold of your secret, you could pretty much expect it to be printed in the next day’s newspaper for it to be announced to the entire world. The only way to escape this was by bribing them, which was basically just agreeing that whatever they did or said was right (as though either of them even needed anymore ego boost).

“Yeah Y/N.” Seungkwan leaned in close, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You can tell us everything, you know.” As though he didn’t know it.

Internally, you were strangling Soonyoung (and cursing yourself) for even thinking of bringing Seungkwan for your emotional support.

“Nothing. I’m fine!” You gushed, looking at Taeyeon for support.

“Hey Y/N. Your boyfriend’s here.” Taemin cut either of you off and you whipped towards the door, only to see your best friend standing there casually, leaning against the door frame. When your eyes met his, he smiled and waved at you, causing your cheeks to heat up.

You immediately looked away, standing up and packing your things as an excuse so that no one saw how flustered you were by a simple gesture.

“Er, I’ll get going.” You muttered, once again running out of the room, but this time instead of running away from Wonwoo you were running towards him.

“Enjoy your date!” Seungkwan yelled after you and you shut the door with a loud bang, hoping the noise would drown him out.

Note to self: search up how to hide your friend’s dead body.

“Hey Woo.” You said, slightly breathless as the two of you began walking towards the dorms. “Did you have something to tell me?” Wonwoo had never come to pick you up from your clubs so to say you were confused would be an understatement.

“Yeah, kind of? I have something to give you rather.” He said, stirring you away from the path that led to the dorms and instead walking towards where all the canteens were. “Do you want to have pizza with me?”

“Did Seokmin give you his extra ‘regular customer’ discount coupons?”

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head in a no. “He wouldn’t give them to anyone even if the world was ending.”

“That’s true. You are treating me right?”

“I bought you sandwiches and yoghourt yesterday.”

“I think I’ll just have dinner in the mess.”

“Fine.” He raised his hand in defeat, still smiling. “Do you want to eat at Pizza Hut or at my dorm?”

You thought about it for sometime and realising how tired you were, you decided to have it in his dorm instead (your plan of avoiding him was practically forgotten by now).

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were huddled on his bed slouching over the coffee table, as you dug into the pizzas you had ordered. For a few minutes neither of you talked, finishing the first pizza in a record breaking time (you were a slow eater) until you opened the second box.

“God, what is this?” You asked, picking up completely green pizza. It looked like an overgrown shrub had been smashed and dumped on your pizza. Wonwoo shrugged beside you, taking a slice out of his own chicken pizza.

“You ordered it. Not me.”

“But why is the pesto sauce so green? And why is it dripping over like that?”

Wonwoo laughed at you before taking out a few napkins. Taking the slice from your hand, he placed it on the napkin and gently placed it back on your hand. He then placed more napkins on your lap. “Don’t spill on the floor, please. It’s a hassle to clean up.”

You looked at him curiously.

“What? Don’t tell me you want me to feed you too?” He joked but that made you even more curious.

“Will you, if I asked you to?” You teased, waiting for him to give his usual nonchalant look.

“Yes.” Wonwoo said without missing a beat, causing you to freeze halfway as the pizza was about to enter your mouth. You cleared your throat awkwardly but he remained unbothered and went back to eating his pizza.

Of course he would say yes. You thought to yourself. Friends can feed each other. Especially since we’ve known each other since we were toddlers. Cursing yourself for finding double meanings of his words, you cleared your throat.

“Hey Woo?”

“Hmm?”

“What would you do if I kissed you?”

This time, Wonwoo froze before turning to you, panic very much evident in his eyes.

“What?” He asked, his voice sounding higher than usual.

“Accidently of course.” You added hastily, worried that he might misunderstand the situation. “Like, like by mistake? What would you do then? Like would you kiss me back because of the heat of the moment-”

“Y/N.” Wonwoo interrupted you, setting his pizza down. He was looking at you bewildered and you could feel the familiar heat rising up your cheeks once more .”Where is this coming from?”

“Nowhere!” You squeaked, keeping your eyes on your pizza so that you didn’t give away anything. “I just recently read a best friends to lovers fanfiction and something like that happened, so I just wanted to know what would have been your reaction.”

Wonwoo seemed to have bought your lie because his expression changed to a frown, as though thinking hard about it.

“Well…” he began cautiously, as though this was a sensitive topic he was treading on (which it was). “If the best friend liked the person who kissed them, then I guess they would kiss them back? Or maybe, maybe not because they might be thinking of how this was just taking advantage of them. Though if the first person kissed them, even if accidentally, wouldn’t that mean they too like them?”

“I guess…” You said, uncertain whether this meant he liked you or not. Damn Jeon Wonwoo for not dropping clearer hints. You thought of what Soonyoung, Seungkwan and Dino had said. Could it be true? “But Wonwoo, I asked what would you do?”

Never did you think you would see your best friend blush but here he was, ears turning slightly red at your question. Had you stepped out of the line too much?

“Me?” He mumbled, taking a big bite of the last pizza slice as though he was trying to avoid your question. Then, he looked up straight into your eyes before answering, causing your stomach to give a lurch. “I think I’ll do whatever happens at the spur of the moment. But I don’t think I will ever kiss you back for too long.”

Even though he had already mentioned that he wouldn’t want to take advantage of you, hearing that he wouldn’t kiss you coming out his mouth still hurt you. Nonetheless you nodded and smiled at him as though agreeing with his thoughts and turned your concentration back to the pizza. It felt awfully soggy in your mouth now and even the warm food wasn’t enough to make you forget the tight, suffocating, squeezing pain in your heart.

Silence engulfed the two of you once again until Wonwoo interrupted it.

“Hey.” He said, causing you to look at him. His hand gently cupped your chin, swiping his thumb at the corner of your lip to get the pesto sauce off. Your stomach somersaulted at the action and when his eyes met yours, the two of you froze.

You could feel your cheeks warming up, almost the temperature of his hand as Wonwoo stared at you, mouth opening and closing at a loss for words. He too turned the slightest shade of red, both of you mirroring each other’s flusteredness. He quickly jerked his hand away from you, rapidly wiping them on the napkin as he cleared his throat awkwardly. You were sure that he could your heart beating rapidly, threatening to jump off your chest.

What was wrong with you today? What was wrong with him today? Why did he have to do those small gestures and make you feel like a mess in front of him? He had already ruined your plan of staying away from him and now he was going to even ruin your facade.

Quickly drinking your glass of water to calm yourself down, you stood up and dusted your hands, indicating you were done.

“Er, let me help you clean up.” You pointed, and he nodded, distracted and unable to meet your eyes.

For some reason, seeing the usually emotionless Jeon Wonwoo look so flustered made you crack up a bit.

Ha! Serves you right for roping me into this wild goose chase for your heart!

You let out a giggle, and he looked up at you confused. “What is it?”

“Nothing. That beanie looks ugly on you.” You lied. Wonwoo faked a dumbfounded look at you and you sniggered once more, moving towards his bathroom to wash your hands. But once you entered, you felt a sigh of frustration leave you as you took in your surroundings. His laundry pile had grown so much that you were amazed he even was wearing clothes right now.

“Wonwoo.” You said, coming out of the bathroom. He was busy setting up his xbox and just nodded at you to go on. “Why is your laundry bag on the verge of exploding?”

“I’ll wash them later.” He said, his attention on the game he was playing.

“Then I won’t hang out with you anymore. You know I hate smelly guys.” You joked and this turned his attention back to you. He threw the controller back on the bed and walked up to you.

Whenever the movies showed the scenes of the guy walking up to the girl and pinning her against the wall, you couldn’t understand what made it so romantic. For you, it was just borderline scary to see a person advance on someone else like that.

But as Wonwoo walked up to you with that stupid grin on his face, you realised what those movies might have hinted at finally. Your stomach felt like you had just been dropped from a rollercoaster and you quickly backed against the wall. But that didn’t stop him and it made you wonder when the hell had your best friend become this hot.

You backed against the wall, until your back hit the wall. Wonwoo didn't stop until his body was pressed against yours, face inches away.

His messy hair fell over his eyes, but it wasn't enough to cover the mischievous glint in them. His long sharp nose nearly brushed against yours as he stared softly at you, causing your stomach to do flip flops. It was the first time you had noticed how soft and inviting his lips were. Wonwoo still smelled the same comforting smell, and you could swear you would have melted then and there if it wasn't for the growing heat in your cheeks keeping you rooted to reality.

"What was that?" He said, his voice almost a low rough whisper which shot shivers down your spine. Any chance of escaping was lost when he placed two muscular arms on either side of you. If you weren't sure if he could hear your abnormally loud heartbeat, you were now sure that he could definitely feel it because of how close you two were. "You don't want to hang out with me?"

There was faux sadness in his voice, indicating that he was only playing around with you and you would have laughed if you weren't trapped between his arms.

"Yeah." You muttered, trying to look anywhere except his eyes. You felt like your legs might give away from the intensity of his stare. "Not only do you have poor choices of clothing like that ugly beanie but you are also smelly."

Then before you could add on, Wonwoo pulled you into a lung crush hug.

"Yeah! Let's be smelly together!" He yelled as you tried wrestling away from him.

"Jeon Wonwoo! Let me go"

You tried your hardest but finally gave up, allowing him to collapse onto the bed, pulling you with him. You let yourself melt in his embrace as you took in his scent again, the safe feeling of his strong arms around you making you feel like you were on cloud nine.

"Stay like this for a while?" He whispered and you found yourself nodding, unable to let him or the moment go either.

So this was what it felt like to be in love.

“I was waiting for you.”

The voice stopped you on your tracks and you turned to see the one and only Lee Taemin, leaning against the huge door frames of the canteen. You were already running late due to your extra study session in the library and seeing Taemin first thing in the morning definitely wasn’t a good omen.

“What do you want?” You asked nonchalantly, eyes searching the canteen for your friends instead.

“Nothing. So yesterday I was observing you and Wonwoo.”

“You were stalking us?”

“No! It's because of the shoelace incident, okay?” You internally groaned, making a mental note to slap Wonwoo once more. “Anyways I caught you guys hugging-”

“So you were stalking us.”

“Please dont report me to the police. My career is on the line.” Taemin begged you, about to get on his knees. You rolled your eyes at his dramatic antics. This is why they said choosing your companions was very important because you had no doubt that he had learnt all of this from Kibum.

“Anyways, have you ever got the feeling that you’ve got Wonwoo wrapped around your fingers?”

“Excuse me, what?” To say you this hadn’t piqued your would be a lie, this was the second time you were hearing this. Could it be that he actually liked you too? But then again, Wonwoo was an extremely loyal friend so of course he did everything and anything for you.

“Yeah. He’s like…totally in love with you. He always looks like a simp whenever he’s around you.”

“Um…” maybe calling Wonwoo a simp was a bit too much because you had spent years with him and he did not react towards you the way he usually did when he simped for someone. “Yeah, thanks for the information. I’ll keep it in mind.” You gave him a smile and then muttered underneath your breath. “You are worse than Soonyoung.”

“Hey I heard that!”

You ignored him and walked towards the table where food was being served. Filling your platter, you finally located your friends and went to sit with them. Wonwoo had already saved a seat for you beside him and you placed your plate on the table before sitting down on the cold steel bench.

“Hi, Y/N.” Joshua, who was sitting opposite to you, greeted you. You smiled at him before turning towards Wonwoo.

“They ran out of yoghurt.” You complained to him, to which he placed an unopened pot on your plate.

“You said you would take a detour to the library today so I knew you would be late and miss out on this.” He said, when you gave him a surprised look.

Before you could thank him, Mingyu cut you off. “What about me? I told you I would be late too but you didn’t save any sausages for me!”

“You said you were going to be late because you were planning on sleeping in. How is that the same thing?”

That didn’t stop from Mingyu pouting and you let out a laugh. Somehow, Mingyu’s misery always seemed to be your joy like some sort of sadistic person but luckily the latter didn’t mind at all. He just smiled back at you, equally enjoying.

“Hey Wonwoo, can you try not to be so obvious in front of us?” Seungkwan said, pretending to puke over his food. You turned to look at the male beside you but he was already staring at his food so you turned to Seungkwan instead.

“Obvious about what?”

“Nothing. He was just staring at…someone.” Jeonghan snickered, causing you to raise an eyebrow. You once again turned your attention back to Wonwoo and when he refused to look at you, you nudged him.

“Are you staring at the girl?”

Now he looked up at you confused, as did everyone else at the table.

“Which girl?” Joshua asked, looking a bit too excited for your comfort.

“Er, that girl Wonwoo was about to make out with? Soonyoung saw them too. Are you talking about her?”

Silence filled your table which wasn’t something you had expected. You thought the guys would have been excited that Wonwoo was finally interested in someone but instead they were looking at him in confusion.

“Uh, no. I, uh, decided she wasn’t my type.” Wonwoo said and you nodded, a small part of you feeling relieved. “By the way, um, is everyone coming to tonight’s fest?”

A collective ‘yeah’s and ‘of course’s went across the table and you nodded too. Your college fest was something everyone had told you to look forward to from the very beginning of the year and you were excited to see what it was about. Luckily for you, first years didn’t have to do anything and could just enjoy the festival. You were especially looking for the fireworks display at the end of the festival, which the chemical engineering and art students were in charge of (you were not sure what the chemical engineering kids even did to help in this but you were a computer engineer major who avoided chemistry whenever you could and just accepted whatever you were told).

“I heard,” Jeonghan said all of a sudden leaning towards the table, “that you need a date to be able to watch the show?”

“Don’t spew nonsense, Yoon- Ow!” Seungcheol was cut off by Jeonghan very evidently kicking him underneath the table, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“Where did you hear that from?” You asked and he blinked at you innocently. The whole table looked interested in this brand new piece of information.

“Didn’t you see the event name? It’s ‘sparks in your heart’. A senior told me that only those who actually understood would be allowed front row seats.”

Now you didn’t have an argument about that. Was it true then?

If you had been told any other time that you needed a partner, you would have chosen Wonwoo in a blink. But now you weren’t sure if you could do that, since he was so interested in that girl. It stung your heart but you knew that if you asked first he wouldn’t refuse and you didn’t want to force him.

“Then I guess I need to leave to find a partner.” You said standing up with your now empty tray. Wonwoo didn’t even try to stop you and you pushed back the sadness lapping at the corners of your heart. No need to be upset over such a small thing.

“Y/N, do you want to go with me-” Wonwoo began but you cut him off with a smile. Knowing him, he would probably put your feelings above his and you did not want to be that friend who got jealous over best friends relationships, no matter how much you liked him.

“It’s fine Woo. You should go out with her. This looks like the perfect opportunity.” Saying that, you bid everyone goodbye and walked out of the canteen, trying to focus on how exciting today’s events were going to be. It wasn’t like he was going to hang out with her all the time right? Just the fireworks event would be enough, right?

You giggled at the thought of Wonwoo trying to ask someone out and wondered what would be her reaction. There was no way she would refuse him, right?

After all, in your eyes Wonwoo was perfect (and judging by the number of girls in his fan club, others agreed with you too. In fact, you realised bitterly, they had seen the boyfriend-material potential in him before you did.) He was sweet, handsome, tall, smart and a bit awkward at times which made him more endearing. But maybe it was because he was your best friend, or maybe it was because you were totally whipped for him that you found him so perfect. Even his flaws were perfections for you. Whatever the reason was, you knew the painful truth that no one could possibly take the place of Wonwoo in your heart.

And maybe, maybe a small part of you wished she would turn him down.

“How does this look on us?” Seungkwan and Chan asked, as they picked up matching couple masks, causing Soonyoung, Seokmin and you to snort with laughter. You were hanging out with the four of them (Seokmin had been pulled into your group of ‘emotional support’ after Seungkwan and Soonyoung complained that their trio booseoksoon was incomplete with only boo and soon so eventually he was even let into your secret).

The whole evening had been a blast for you, hanging out with the most chaotic crew of your friends group was definitely the best idea. They had made the entire evening more lively and you could feel a smile already tugging at the corner of your lips, knowing full well that Chan and Seungkwan were definitely up to something.

You sighed contently, as Soonyoung and Seokmin offered to help them look more couple-like. And this evening would have been just perfect, if only all of your agenda tonight wasn’t avoiding Jeon Wonwoo.

As soon as you heard what Jeonghan said, you confessed your thoughts on what Wonwoo might do to Soonyoung, who in turn called upon this mini gang who knew your secret for a solution.

So in conclusion, you were back to plan one: avoiding Wonwoo.

You had managed to dodge him the entire evening even though you were missing him a lot. No matter how much your group of friends tried to keep you distracted, it was like every single small thing in the fest reminded you of the times you spent with him some way or another.

You dearly wished you could go back to the days when you were unbothered by his presence, when your heart didn’t race by his mere actions or when your cheeks didn’t heat up at each and every compliment. It was like a part of you was missing, a very important part which wasn’t letting you enjoy and that’s when you realised how much you truly cherished and loved him.

Come on, Y/N. You thought to yourself. It’s not like you and Wonwoo were attached at the waist even back at school. There are many events you two spent without each other. Or were there?

So far you hadn’t bumped into Wonwoo or any of your other friends luckily, and you really hoped the entire night would pass by quickly in this manner. The night was a bit chilly and you were damn sure your best friend was going to wear one of his extra soft sweaters which always made him look tiny and made you want to collapse into his arms.

Presently, you found Seungkwan and Chan asking you the same question of how they looked, but this time Seokmin and Soonyoung had added more party stuff to their looks, like some goofy sunglasses and pompom earrings.

“You look like a desperate couple trying to fix their almost blown up marriage.” A familiar deep voice spoke from behind you as you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder. You froze for a second when the comforting scent hit you, and then finally looked up to see your grinning best friend at your side.

Except that he wasn’t grinning at you. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at you and you felt your stomach drop. Had you taken the game too far once again? At this rate you were pretty sure your friendship would be over by tonight.

Even your gang of friends seemed to be taken aback and for a second you were worried one of them; mostly Soonyoung or Chan; might blurt out asking how he had found them, making it obvious that they had been trying to avoid him but Seokmin was the first to recover and he burst out in laughter, pulling Mingyu into a (random) hug.

“Right? That’s exactly the look we were trying to go for!” Seokmin said.

“Ooh, let’s take a picture and then do Joshua and Jeonghan too.” Jun snickered, causing even you to laugh, making you almost forget that Wonwoo was right beside you.

The rest of your friends moved towards Seungkwan and Chan (fourteen people made it hard to actually fit in one small stall together), and so did you but Wonwoo’s iron-like grip prevented you from moving. You looked up at him once again and he still hadn’t looked at you, but you could see his jaws working.

“We need to talk.” He said and you gulped at how calm he sounded. It felt like the calm before the storm and you were really worried about what he was going to say.

“But- But the fireworks event starts in five minutes!” You protested and he looked at you now.

“Do you even have a date?” He asked. and you looked down at your feet, muttering a ‘no’.

“Well, neither do I. Come on, I found a better place to watch it.” Saying that, he stirred away from the crowd. Before you knew it, you were out of the ground where the fest was taking place, the cool night air causing you to shiver despite your jacket. You turned slightly and saw that you were right, Wonwoo was wearing a sweater.

It reminded you of the night he had kissed you.

“Are you cold?” Wonwoo asked gently, his tone completely changed now and somehow you felt relieved. Maybe he wasn’t angry after all. He probably didn’t even realise it.

You nodded. But what can he do about it? It’s not like he has a jacket or-

Wonwoo pulled you in closer to his body, your back hitting his chest and you felt your cheeks heat up. He wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you into his warmth and you couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him as though by reflex. He was still stirring you away from the fest, but now he was walking slower than before, as though making sure you didn’t accidentally trip over him.

Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest, almost melting into a puddle because of how he held you, each touch causing goosebumps to rise up your arms (you were glad for your jacket now).

“Where are we going?” You whispered, though you were not sure why you were whispering. Maybe it was because you felt that talking loudly might ruin the mood he had created between the two of you, how much ever platonically he saw it.

“You’ll see.” He whispered back, his breath hot against your ears.

And now you saw where the two of you were heading to. It was the uphill part of your college campus where you and Wonwoo had rested the day after the party. The bench where you had realised you had feelings for him.

In a way Wonwoo was right. You definitely would get a better view here.

Finally, the two of you reached the designated spot and he let you go finally. You took a few steps away from him and looked away, trying to cool your cheeks.

“Y/N.” He called you and you turned towards him. Wonwoo covered the distance between the two of you in just two strides, and you found yourself in his embrace again. “Y/N?” He asked again.

“Yeah?” Your voice shook but you didn’t have it in you to pull away from his grip, to fight against this wonderful fluttering feeling anymore. He looked so beautiful, so beautiful, the moonlight giving a soft glow to his face and yet bringing out his sharp features. You let out a breath, feeling the entire world disappear as though it was just the two of you right now.

Wonwoo raised his hand and pushed his specs back up his nose bridge, causing you to flinch. You immediately regretted your action because he closed his eyes shut, brows frowning as though he had finally realised everything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was strained, and it broke your heart hearing him like this. “Why didn’t you tell me what I did? I made you uncomfortable and you- and you-”

“Stop it, Woo.” You whispered, cupping his cheeks. His eyes fluttered open and when they met yours, you felt your heart swell with love. “You didn’t- I mean-”

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I'm so, so sorry. I should have realised it earlier-”

“No. It’s my fault too. I didn’t tell you anything.”

He pulled you into a hug, tightening his arms around you as though you might disappear if he let you go. You too clung on to him like he was your lifeline, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You shut your eyes close and somewhere far away, you vaguely heard someone shout that there was a minute left till the countdown.

“I- I have something else to tell you too.” He mumbled and you gently rubbed his back, urging him to go on. The cold had almost disappeared and you would have given up anything to freeze this moment. “Y/N. I love you.”

You froze at his words but Wonwoo went on. “I- I- know I shouldn’t be but I just couldn’t- I just can’t help it. I love you. I love you so much till the point that I can’t imagine a world without you. Even thinking about it makes breathing hard.”

He let out a hollow laughter and you broke from the hug, your hands still on his biceps as you looked at him but he refused to meet your eyes, choosing to stare down instead at the small gap between the two of you.

“You don’t have to respond to me. I just wanted you to know…that when I kissed you it wasn’t because I was drunk or something. I truly love you and I will always treasure you. I know I’m- I’m pathetic.”

“Jeon Wonwoo.” You exhaled and he finally looked back at you. “I kissed you back. Wonwoo, I kissed you back.”

“But that was because it was in the heat of the moment-”

“And then I realised how much I love you. I love you Wonwoo and you are the reason I cannot go to bed without thinking how I will probably end up messing up our relationship. But I can’t stop loving you either.”

Wonwoo blinked at you, as though mulling your words in his head. The two of you stared at each other, until you dropped your eyes down, unable to meet his soft gaze anymore.

“You know,” he said, causing you to look up at him. Down at the ground, the countdown had already started. “I’ve always been whipped for you. It’s like I’m a sucker for you.”

The countdown hit one and you felt Wonwoo jerk you closer to him, his lips crashing with yours. Your heart exploded along with the firecrackers in the sky, but all other noises drowned out when he pulled you in impossibly closer.

It reminded you of the first time you both kissed. But somehow this was different. It felt like there was more feelings in this one, making it more sensual. Wonwoo moved his mouth slowly and softly against yours, his warm lips on yours making your mind completely fuzzy.

He smelled so good, and you clung onto his neck as he rubbed soft circles on your back.

Finally the two of you broke apart, breathless but smiling at each other. Crowd below was clapping, causing you to grin more.

“How are you such a good kisser?” You asked, pretending to be suspicious. Wonwoo just laughed and brushed his nose against yours.

“You missed the fireworks because of me.” He said and you shook your head, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips which caused him to chase after yours.

“It’s fine. I saw different sparks this time.”

He rested his forehead against yours, staring at you softly, nearly causing you to scream internally not to look away.

“I can’t believe the prettiest girl in this world is in love with me.”

“You better believe it Mr.Jeon because now I need to fight off all your fangirls.”

He laughed, and you realised you had never heard a more endearing sound before.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been warding them for all these years just for you. Won’t be hard to do it for a few more years.”

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

1K notes · View notes

saltsicklover · 6 months

Text

Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 2 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 1 HERE, and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 14k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

---

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. The weekend before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A cellphone is tucked between Monsoon's cheek and shoulder, the line trilling. She carries her duffle bags and kit, feeling like a battering ram as she makes her way through the crowd of people. The airport is packed and she can feel just how humid it is form how sticky she feels.

The hallways of the airport wind as she follows the crowd out of the baggage claim. The people around her move just a bit too slowly as they wheel their bags behind them, just begging for someone to trip over them if they dare pass. If there is one thing Monsoon did not miss about being at Top Gun, it's the trip in.

Fuck flying coach.

Fuck PSC Season and all of the families taking all the seats on the military flights.

Fuck the crying lady sitting next to her, who wouldn't stop sobbing at the shitty romcom she was watching, and fuck when she decided to start it over, just to watch it all over again.

But the best thing about coming back has to be seeing her surrogate father, Beau Simpson. Their relationship has only grown stronger since that night at the bar. They have spent countless meals together, drinking at bars when they are in the same place and always sending 'check in' emails. Phone calls have always been a bit dodgy between time zones and deployments.

Neither one knew exactly what they were getting into when the bond between them grew, neither really sure exactly what a parent/child relationship looks like, especially when the child is really an unrelated adult. But as the days went on, and the email chain got longer and longer, things seemed to just make sense.

The pair talked about everything, from work to dating, friendships and recipes. Cyclone opened up about June and their baby, sharing his favorite stories of their marriage. From how they started dating, to the day that June passed, Monsoon heard it all.

Calla lilies were June's favorite, the only flowers that Beau believes should ever be given to a woman, and Monsoon smiles at the memory of her graduation from Top Gun, and the way Cyclone smiled at her with the bouquet of lilies in his lap.

When Monsoon found herself in Vermont she carved out time to visit June and Baby Boy Simpson at the cemetery. She showed up with two bouquets of calla lilies and a speech to give them. Monsoon cleaned their headstones and laid the flowers delicately across their plots, speaking to them the whole time about herself, and Cyclone, and the world they live in.

Cyclone's phone buzzed in his pocket while in a meeting. When he snuck a peak, he was met with a photo of Monsoon, a light smile adorning her face as she sits just in front of the burial plots. The message read "With Mama June and Bubba, thinking of you, Pops". Cyclone had to excuse himself from the table with tears in his eyes.

As the years went on, the surfaces in Cyclone's office slowly began to fill with more photos of the two of them. The collection of frames started out sophisticated, it really did, but as time went on, the frames became more eclectic, more fun.

It's juxtaposes the rest of Cyclones office in a way that is almost comical. As he is shouting at someone for their latest fuck up, there are shelves full of silly frames just a few feet away. Cyclone's favorite just so happens to read "Clown College Class President" while Monsoon's favorite is one of those irregular shaped ones, with an oval opening for the photograph.

There is a photo of the two of them tucked in the cockpit of Monsoon's jet. It catches the mechanics off guard every time, but no one dare says a word about it- mostly out of fear that word would get back to Admiral. The photo depicts the two of them at one of those giant truck stops, posing with the large dinosaur sitting out front. She is sat atop of it, like a cowboy, with Cyclone leaning up against it, his shoulder near her thigh. They both wear larger than life smiles as the sun beats down on them. It was a silly thing, really. Both stuck in at little forgotten Air Base in middle America for a flight test, but the pair managed to make the best of it, remembering to take photographs as they went.

There is a postcard folded up in Cyclone's wallet. Once upon a time, it read the catchy saying "Why Not Minot?" printed across the front of it, with a cute little photo of a town square, a little forgotten town in North Dakota. It's one of those bases that people dread being stationed at, that much has always been true, but the little photo on the front of the post card sold a different tale. It wasn't the cutesy saying or the photo that made him keep it, the edges now worn and fibrous. On the back, written in neat blue ink, underneath a little blurb about how there is absolutely nothing to do in North Dakota, the sentence "I love you, Pops" sits next to a scribbly little heart.

The staticky, tolling, phoneline picks up after a few rings as Monsoon pushes around a family with one too many screaming toddlers. They have on those little backpack leashes and Monsoon almost gets close lined as a little dark haired child bursts in front of her without warning. She dodged, but she catches one of those damn rolling bags with her toe. Monsoon barely notices the glare the lady sent her way, but the lack luster wrath of a stranger isn't going to stop her.

"Hey, Kid," Cyclone greets over the line, the smile on his face evident through the sound of his voice. There is no need for an official "hello" to begin the conversation, both knowing full well that Cyclone had been watching the flight itinerary like a hawk to make sure Monsoon wasn't going to be delayed. The call upon landing is just expected at this point, though neither of them have mastered the cool,casual, its good to see you.

"I just landed," A woman walks right into one of the duffle bags hanging off of Monsoon's shoulders, throwing her completely off balance. She hikes the bag higher up on her shoulder, trying to rebalance the hefty weight she is carrying. Monsoon sways like she is at sea, attempting to get her balance back. There is something so familiar about the way she sways a bit, just like the jet carriers do as the waves bash against the metal of the hull.

"Fuck" she curses under her breath, steadying herself once again. For a Seaman, one might think Monsoon would have better balance. Cyclone rolls his eyes on the other side of the phone. "I'll be over for dinner tonight, if that's still the plan,"

"Sure is, I'm making your favorite,"

"Steak and potatoes are your favorite," Monsoon corrects.

"You can correct me without the side of guilt, you know," Cyclone is chuckling through the phone, earning him a roll of the eyes.

"I only meant to tease," There is a nonchalance to her voice, though she is the furthest thing from cool. Cyclone isn't either. His kid is coming home and they get to sit down for a meal for the first time in months and he is beyond excited.

"I'm going to drop my stuff off at my rental, then I'll be headed your way, you better be ready for me to eat enough for a small village," Monsoon heads right for the exit, ready to look for a taxi. "And Pops, maybe think about adding a-" The word "vegetable" fails to make it's way out of her mouth as Monsoon looks up as the double doors in front of her slide open. Cyclone is standing on the other side, a large sign reading "WELCOME HOME KIDDO" sits loosely in his hand, the other holds his phone up to his ear.

It's like one of those cheesy scenes from a movie, both wearing matching grins and laughing. Cyclone knew the whole thing would be a surprise; he took a leave day to make sure he would bet there to pick her up.

"Pops!" The name still makes Cyclone's heart swell, even if he had been responding to that very name for the past few years. It's funny, really, how easy it was for the pair to adjust to the name, though Monsoon waited for him to acknowledge it first before she actually said it.

The acknowledgement came from a recorded phone message, shortly after her first move after her Top Gun Graduation. Cyclone got stuck in on the highway with a dead car and no cellphone. The call came in from a payphone, an unknown number. Cyclone left a message, "Hey, kid, it's Pops, my car died and I am stranded. I could use an assist. Do you know anyone in Missouri?". That message is still saved on Monsoon's phone to this day.

"Hey, Kiddo!" And then Monsoon is stumbling closer, her bags swinging her center of gravity all over the place. He reaches a hand out to take one, ready to throw it over his shoulder, but instead, each one hits the pavement with a hard thud. Monsoon is quickly wrapping her arms around his body, one over his shoulder, one under his arm, meeting around his back and squeezing him hard.

The hug is returned in kind, both damn near trying to squeeze each other to death. It's playful, as they share "good to see you's" and "I've missed you's" .

"I hope you don't mind, Kid, but I invited another one of the recruits to dinner tonight," He speaks the words into her hair. Monsoon pulls back to look up at her Pops with furrowed brows. She doesn't have to say a thing, he already knows exactly what is going through her mind.

"I know it's unorthodox, but, Kazansky said it might be a good idea, and when the good Admiral says something like that, you set another place at the table,"

"Yeah, unorthodox is definitely a word for it," Monsoon is pulling out of Cyclone's embrace, dipping to grab her discarded bags from the pavement. Cyclone grabs one before she can, which earns him a roll of her eyes.

"Be nice, would you?"

"To you or the mystery guest?" Her words are dripping with sarcasm.

"Preferably both," Cyclone chides, poking her in the side with the welcome home sign. She swats it away with a quick hand, both laughing.

"I'll see what I can do,"

---

The sun is setting over the horizon, painting the sky orange with wisps of pink the lower it sinks behind the curve of the Earth. Monsoon is spread out on one of the lawn chairs, relaxing, well, more like waiting out her Pops' little outburst. She had opened the grill to check on the steak, making sure the edges wouldn't be too crispy, and Cyclone all but snapped the lid shut in the middle of her investigation. He banished her to the other side of the patio to wait for the food to finish cooking. Then, and only then, would she be allowed to touch the grill again.

If there is one thing to be true, Cyclone has a method when it comes to grilling. Monsoon had it all explained to her the first time he grilled for the pair of them. He has it down to a science, all from the temperature and the kind of charcoal to use, to the length of marinating time and spices to make even the worst cut of meat from the Commissary the most perfect dinner.

And Monsoon couldn't exactly tell him he was wrong. After all, every single thing Beau had ever placed in front of her tasted delicious, delectable even. Not only that, but Monsoon really couldn't have done it better if she tried. Her Pops wouldn't let her try, either, but that is beside the point.

Soon, everything is pulled off the grill and the pair are inside, Monsoon tasked with setting the table. All of the windows are open, the evening breeze cooling the inside of the house. As she places another fork down, Monsoon takes in the way the breeze dances across her skin. Goosebumps threaten to crest over her exposed arms at the chill the air carries. In that moment, she is thankful for the California air, the smell of the freshly made sides sitting in the center of the table, and the fact that she is setting the table in her Pops' house.

It has been too long since the pair got to sit together and share a meal. Cups of coffee over video chat were no where near as nice and Monsoon couldn't lie, she missed Cyclone's cooking. As she sets down the last knife, Cyclone is bounding down the stairs. His causal jeans and t-shirt have been replaced by a nice pair of brown slacks and a cream polo shirt, tucked in with a belt. He's even sporting loafers.

"Hey Pops, there is something I want to talk to you about tonight," Monsoon shouts down the hall. She tries to shake the bit of nerves rumbling through her chest like a handful of loan bees.

"Okay, kiddo," Cyclone calls back as he is rounding the corner into the kitchen, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, promise,"

"Okay," It's a simple response as he walks further into the kitchen. He pats her on the shoulder as he passes, a loving gesture.

"Got a hot date?" Monsoon chides as she looks him up and down. She sets the bundle of flatware down on the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," Cyclone is shaking his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her words. "We are having company tonight, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, but I didn't think some random Lieutenant, that is only coming over because the good Admiral all but ordered him to, was someone worth dressing up for."

There is a shrug of her shoulders as her head sways down nonchalantly. Cyclone crosses his arms, mirroring his kid, with a stern look on his face. It's a look that Monsoon isn't used to seeing out of uniform. Maybe it should worry her, but the vein that would usually protrude from his forehead is nowhere to be seen.

"Remember, kid, you too are just 'some random Lieutenant'" Those words stir a bit of anger within Monsoon, but it dissipates as fast as it came.

"Well then, Admiral Simpson, sir," Monsoon stands up a bit straighter, dropping her hands to her sides, "Let me find something more presentable to wear for the strange man who's crashing out family dinner," She grimaces a bit, but they both laugh. Beau is just laughing, in that way that make's his whole body shake, his eyes scrunched closed while whole hearted giggles escape his lips.

"Go on, kid," He waves in the general direction of the hallway, towards the front of the house where she dropped her bags by the front door.

The zipper of her duffle bag slide open easily, the separation of the teeth vibrating her fingertips. Monsoon fishes out a sun dress and a cropped sweater, something to keep her warmer as the sun sets below the horizon. It's a nice enough combination, something that will surly look like she gives a fuck about her appearance without looking like she planned too much. Monsoon changes out of her sweat shorts and t-shirt in the half bath, emerging looking like a brand new woman, though the feeling of the plane still lingers on her skin.

Just as she is stuffing her travel clothing back into her bag, the doorbell sounds throughout the house, the bells tolling just a bit too loud.

"Jeez, Pops, could that doorbell be any louder?" Monsoon is yelling just as she reaches for the door. She pulls it open with a swift movement, a smile on her face. Then it falls as soon as she sees who is standing on the other side of the threshold.

Clad in a button down shirt, one with a pattern that would rival any rodeo clown, with one too many buttons undone stands Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw; a man she hasn't seen since a deployment five years ago, about six months after she graduated from Top Gun.

There is a gold chain hanging around his neck. It's just long enough to graze over the tops of his collar bones. His shirt is untucked, the bottom a bit wrinkly, like he has tucked and untucked it a couple of times trying to decide which looked better. He made the wrong choice, by Monsoon's calculation, the patterned shirt covering the top of his dark khakis. He looks a bit silly, really, from the chain down to his boat shoes. The thing that catches her the most off guard though, is the fucking mustache he has decorating, no, vandalizing his upper lip.

Her own mouth hangs open just a bit, her hand tightening it's grip on the door handle. Bradley shoots her that mega wat smile, that million dollar, dentist office poster smile- the one that made her swoon all those years ago. But now, now it makes her fucking angry. Or maybe it's resentment that she feels boiling up inside of her, steaming her insides with a sort of sick feeling that she hasn't felt in years.

The last time this strange, queasy feeling flowed through her she was wrapped up in the white sheets of her mattress on an aircraft carrier, somewhere out in the pacific. Her naked body feeding off of the warmth of spot that Rooster once occupied. When she awoke, there was a feeling of contentment that spread over her skin, until she reached over to find the spot next to her cold.

Their deployment relationship ended with a fucking post it note, "Duty Calls" is all it read, scribbled down in a mess of black ink, the pen itself skipping. Hell, the pen couldn't even bother to work long enough to get a complete message through- their relationship simmered down to nothing more than steamy nights together in a twin size bunk while the ocean waves rocked against the carrier.

The contentment drained from Monsoon faster than than the anger could take over, and for a moment there was nothingness in the spaces between her ribs.

And now, Bradley fucking Bradshaw is standing on her Pops' front porch, smiling at her like nothing has ever happened between them, holding a bottle of wine, and somehow she is just supposed to let him in!

"Hello," He scratches at the back of his neck, his brows pinched together just the slightest bit. "Is this Admiral Simpson's house?"

Words are caught in the back of Monsoon's throat, each individual letter sticking her in the esophagus. Monsoon stands there looking at Bradley, each growing a bit more uncomfortable as the seconds go by. But, she is on the inside of the doorjamb, she has the upper hand. Just as she goes to slam the door in his fucking ugly mustache, Cyclone catches the door.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Beau booms, his tone friendly as he sends Monsoon a what the fuck look. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, though it does nothing to relieve the rapidly growing headache that's taking over her skull.

"Come in, come in!" Cyclone practically ushers Bradley into the house. "This is my daughter, Y/N Mitchell, she is in the new Top Gun class as well!"

Beau is doing his best to defuse the tension in the room, between Monsoon's anger, and Bradley's overall discomfort from being in an Admiral's house, the vibes are askew. Bradley crinkles his brows at the information and Beau quickly jumps in with a chuckle, "No relation, but I claim her anyway. Introduce yourself, Son,"

"Brad-"

"We already know each other,"

The pair speak at the same time. Monsoon's tone is full of distain, like the words taste bitter and unforgiving on her tongue. She pushes past Bradley's outstretched hand and past Cyclone. Bradley can't help the fact that his face twists up in confusion as he wracks his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew her.

The woman's definitely too upset to be a recent fling- hell, Bradley hasn't even managed to bring a girl back to his place in such a long time. Deployment really limited his prospects and she sure wasn't on the mission he just finished.

"Please, this way," Cyclone guides Bradley back to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine from the younger man. They follow the path Monsoon took, down the hall and back to the large kitchen. She is standing at the sink, her hands braced on the counter top.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Bradshaw. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak with my daughter for a second." Cyclone is moving before Bradley can acknowledge him. So, Bradley pretends to be very interested in the view just outside the kitchen window.

"What the hell, kid?" Cyclone carefully grabs Monsoon's elbow, leaning in just a little bit closer to fake some sort of privacy. He sets the bottle of wine on the counter. With all the tension blooming in the air around them, Cyclone decides alcohol is the last thing they need.

"It's complicated, Pops, just leave it be, okay?" Monsoon is running a hand through her hair, a shallow attempt to ground herself. "I can play nice for one dinner,"

"What the hell happened between you two? And it's not just one dinner, it's the next few weeks."

That fact is met with a grumble from Monsoon. It took her only a few seconds to convince herself that she would be able to make it though a dinner, but the idea of having to see Bradley fucking Bradshaw every day for the foreseeable future had a mixture of nausea and frustration swirling through her.

"Pops, trust me, this really isn't something you are going to want to hear about, nor do I feel like discussing it in your kitchen, at a whisper, while the man who doesn't even seem to fucking remember me is only a few feet away! No thank you," Monsoon pushes past Cyclone once more, picking up the bowl of salad from the kitchen island and bringing it over to the table. Cyclone is hot on her tail, speaking lowly after her.

"Y/N" That gets her to stop, Beau never uses her first name, "We are not finished discussing this,"

"After supper then," The words leave her tongue sharp, but they are met with a nod of approval. Then Cyclone is moving, ready for the night to move on as planned.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Cyclone is turning his attention back to their guest, a makeshift smile plastered to his face, "Please, take a seat, I am just going to grab the food off the grill,"

And then Cyclone is disappearing out the back door, leaving Monsoon and Rooster alone, the room already threatening to burst from the rapidly accumulating tension. Monsoon chances a look at Bradley as she finished setting out the flatware that had been left abandoned earlier, suddenly a little bit glad that her Pops hinted at her to change clothes. She looks good, that much she knows, if only it mattered at this point.

Maybe, if it mattered, Bradley would look at her and realize just how much he walked out on. Maybe he would see the way Cyclone cares for her, and their little family that they've created and know that he threw away his chance to be apart of it. If only he could see just how happy she is now- yet he doesn't even fucking recognize her, and that makes her heart burn like cheap kerosene. It's like gulping down saltwater, the feeling of being forgotten, drowning right out in the open for everyone to see.

As Monsoon is drowning in thoughts of Bradley, he is just trying to remember her.

Bradley takes in the slope of her nose and the freckles that are smattered across her legs. His eyes wander over the frizzy bits of her hair, down the line of her shoulder and ending at the tips of her fingers. The way that she glances at him, her face still turned down as she adjusts the table settings, strikes him as familiar- but in a far off sense of the word. Familiar in the way his own face is reminiscent of his father's.

His father, Goose, and Maverick... Pete Mitchell... Mitchell!

"Mitchell?" Bradley breaks the silence, his gaze a bit wider, still locked on her downturned face. Monsoon's eyes shoot up at the name, locking with his dark brown eyes. They bore into her the same way they always had and a part of her aches.

"Are you-" The breath he sucks into his lungs burns a bit with hazy memory, "Are you Pete Michell's kid?"

An audible, pained groan leaves Monsoon's throat at the question.

"Not anymore," Are the only words she can manage, the flames of anger licking at her legs.

"But you were, once?" There is almost a ribbon of hope laces somewhere in his tone, but Monsoon pays it no mind. She walks away from the table, keeping her back to Bradley as she attempts to calm the heat of rage that's licking at her legs.

Why couldn't Bradley just ask her about normal things? Why aren't they talking about work, their partners, their friends. Hell, he could hit on her at this point and it would go over better.

If he wanted to talk about Maverick- Pete Michell, there were countless times when they were tangled up together in blankets, in the dark save for the crack of light breaking into the room from under the doorway.

He could have asked as they scurried up the stairs of the carrier, their gear smacking against their chests as they ran. Bradley could have asked then, as they bounded out into the early morning, salt soaked air.

Hell, Bradley could have asked over coms, high in the air as the wind whistled past their wings. They were just test flights after all, no enemy to contend with. He could have asked her then.

But he didn't.

"That was a very long time ago," She's turning to the fridge, pulling a pitcher of lemonade out. The sigh that leaves her lips is nothing but tension attempting to escape from the confines of her chest. It doesn't work, and Bradley doesn't catch the hint to just shut the fuck up and leave it be.

"We knew each other, right? When we were kids?" The question catches Monsoon off guard, almost as much as his initial presence did. She wants to laugh, really she does, at the ridiculousness of the situation.

He didn't remember that fact when they met on the carrier five years ago, and Monsoon tried not to let that bother her, especially when he was buried inside of her, moaning filthy things into her ear. But now? Now he remembers. But somewhere, the memory of their torrid love affair escapes the great mind of Bradley Bradshaw.

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

Though the whole thing is laughable; Bradley isn't laughing. He's holding his breath, too caught up in the scene in front of him, in the soreness of his chest and the way his heart thrums against the backside of his ribcage.

Fuck how his chest aches.

There is this part of his past, this piece that he once knew like the back of his hand, that's just in reach now- again, and Monsoon is laughing at him. The memory of her was erased with the sounding of artillery, the three volley's fired into the air. And now, he craves this memory like he craves the memory of his father, the pieces of his innocence having crumbling into his hands like ash.

It still stains his hands that sickly blackish gray, gritty against his skin, though he is the only one that can see it.

The sliding door opens once more and Cyclone is slipping though, holding a large platter of steak in his hand, the meat is grilled to perfection and he looks proud. Bradley looks at Monsoon with furrowed brows, questioning the words that she let slip past her lips. Cyclone steps between them, setting the plate of meat down on to the dinner table, more than enough food to go around.

"Please, Y/N, come and join us," Cyclone is pulling out a seat right next to Bradley, offering it to her. Reluctantly, she pads over, taking a seat next to Bradley who can't seem to take his eyes off of her face. He runs his hands up and down his pant legs, more out of anxiety than anything else. Cyclone takes a seat across from the pair, a tight smile on his face.

In any other world, it may look like a child introducing their significant other to their father, the way the tension hangs in the air between the trio. Cyclone awkwardly dishes himself servings of the food before passing it to Monsoon, who does the same before placing it down next to her, leaving Bradley to fend for himself. It's petty, that's true, but to Monsoon, it's a small act of defiance. A small fuck you for not remembering her, or the nights they spent together.

The Admiral knows something is going on right under his nose, just out of his understanding. He can see it in the way Monsoon shifts awkwardly in her seat while Bradley's gaze gets overly friendly with the plate in front of him. There's a question on the tip of his tongue, "kid, is Bradley your boyfriend?" but he knows better than to ask it. As he observes longer, he takes in the way his daughter tilts her shoulders just a little further away from Bradley, the arm closest to him resting elbow down on the table. The moment Cyclone notices the unpassed dishes sitting between the pair, he just knows.

"So," Cyclone clears his throat, "Are you two excited to be back at Top Gun?"

It's a reasonable question, very middle of the road. Monsoon opens her mouth to answer, but Bradley beats her to it.

"Yes, sir. It's good to be back stateside. Hell, it's good to be back on solid ground. I've been stuck on a carrier for the past nine months and I was beginning to lose my mind!" He's chuckling now, and Beau joins in right along side him, the deep chuckles of the men filling the air. "But you know how it can get on the carriers. It's hard to pass the time, no going to the bar with friends, no dating,"

Then, Monsoon's fork hits her plate with a metallic clank against the glass. No dating, yeah, right. Out of all of the things Monsoon pegged Bradley to be, a liar was not one of them, but then again not much could surprise her after the way he left.

"How about you, kid?"

"To be determined, Pops," The answer is genuine, spoken through grit teeth.

Maybe she shouldn't be so upset with Bradley's lack of remembrance for her. After all, it's not always the wrong time with the right person. Or the wrong place. Sometimes it's wrong, maybe he just didn't like her that much- more a deployment fling to get him through the lonely nights than a future.

"Well, I am excited you're back," Cyclone returns her direction, but Monsoon just shoves a fork full of salad into her mouth.

"Sir, can I ask what exactly they called us back for? And are there more of us?" Bradley asks between bites, his fork and knife busy against his plate.

"I am not obliged to share much, but I can tell you that fifteen of you have been called back, from varying Top Gun classes." The explanation leaves something to be desired, but both recruits are nodding on the other side of the table. Bradley eats another bite of steak, complimenting Cyclone on his grilling; Monsoon is just pushing the food around on her plate with the tines of her fork. It's easier than finding the appetite that was lost somewhere between the front door and the kitchen after Bradley's arrival.

"Are you teaching us this go around, Pops?" Monsoon's question is spoken quietly, in the middle of Bradley's sentence about his own grilling technique- there is no remorse for the interruption.

At her words, Cyclone visibly stiffens, his fork stilling on his plate. Then he's setting it down, eyes still locked with his plate. With a huff and a lick of his lips he looks across the table, met with two pairs of curious eyes. He knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't expect it to be quite like this.

"No, I'm not teaching," Cyclone takes another breathe, unsure who to make eye contact with, knowing the words he's about to say are not going to be received well, by either one of them. "We- Top Gun has decided to bring in-"

The doorbell is ringing loudly through the house, startling Cyclone in his seat. It breaks though the tension like a fucking bullet, the whole thing blasting apart on impact. The trio trade glances that last milliseconds, like someone just knows whos going to be standing on the other side of that door.

"I'll get it, Pops," Monsoon is already pushing out of her seat, placing her napkin next to her plate. She is a bit too eager to get away from the tension surrounding that table, not only from her question but from the way Bradley is basically staring out of the corner of his eye. Though she can't exactly see it happening, she can feel it- the way his eyes are boring into the side of her head, almost burning. She will take anyone being on the other side of that door if it means she doesn't have to sit in Bradley's swimming gaze any longer.

"No, you stay, I'll get it," Cyclone corrects, "You stay and chat,"

Then, Cyclone is pushing away from the table, heading right for the front door. He gives his daughter no time to protest. Cyclone leaves the slowly rebuilding tension behind him, and Monsoon is stuck having to sit back down, next to Bradley, left to simmer in it.

"We did know each other, right?" Bradley is quick to ask the moment Cyclone rounds the corner. It's a speed he's not used to- too used to sitting and waiting for the perfect timing that just doesn't come. But this isn't something he's willing to wait on, it's just something he has to know.

"Yes, Bradley, we knew each other. But that was a long time ago," Monsoon is shrugging, avoiding his eyes. The words should have hit him harder, from the way they all but flew from her lips, but the impact is almost gentle, like the comfort of them bore the brunt of it all.

"Do you remember my father?" The question is so innocent that it almost hurts; and Monsoon knows just how much throbbing pain there is inside Bradley. After one drunken night while on the carrier, he poured his heart out about his father, about how much he missed him and how he wished- hoped that Goose would have been proud of him. Monsoon sat and listened the to the whole thing, through the tears and drunken hiccups, reassuring Bradley that Goose would be proud of him.

After all, she knewhim, even if that was a million years ago- even if Bradley didn't know it.

She knows he would have been, because Goose was a good man.

A trait that seemed to have skipped over Bradley.

Good men remember their lovers. They remember their old friends. They remember the people who showed up to their mother's funeral- and have the decency to show up to their friends' mother's funeral.

Good men don't leave women in the dead of night, a break up message scrawled on a sticky note. They don't leave their friends to grieve alone. They don't forget.

"Yes, I remember him," Monsoon chances a glance at Bradley, unintentionally meeting his eyes. God, he's looking at her like she holds the fucking secrets to the universe and all she can feel is a sort of twisted up sickness, like her sternum is bound together with poisoned ropes. Bradley can see the stars that cling to her fingertips, the secrets to the cosmos, but can't seem to find the words to beg for their translation.

Cyclone is walking back into the room a second later, accompanied by another set of footsteps. Neither Monsoon nor Bradley look up when they walk in, both too busy staring at each other. Bradley looks curious, Monsoon looks hurt.

She looks away first.

A tall blond walks in behind Cyclone, his gaze focused on a set of files in his hand. He's reading over the top file carefully, running his free hand through his cropped hair. There is a toothpick in his mouth, resting between his teeth. Dressed in his tan uniform, his biceps are straining against the cuffs.

He's a Stetson model type, clean cut and masculine. The line of his jaw accentuated by the clean lines of his uniform. His jaw ticks with frustration as his brows furrow at the paperwork. There appears to be a word on the tip of his tongue by the way the toothpick bobs between his plump lips.

"Hey, guys, sorry for that, this is-" Cyclone swings his hand, introduction interrupted by twin gasps.

"Jake?!"

"Hangman?"

Hangman isn't sure who to look at first, but his eyes meet Bradley's form first, his eyebrows knitting together at the familiar face before shooting to his hairline when his eyes land on Monsoon sitting next to Bradley.

"Y/N, Doll! What are you doing here?"

Cyclone is whipping his head around in the way he might flip a jet. And Monsoon is pushing out of her chair again, ready to round the table and throw herself into the arms of the strong, blond man who just walked in, but her eyes meet the bewildered look on Cyclone's face, causing her to halt her movements. Hangman sets the paperwork down on the kitchen island, his eyes still locked on Monsoon, that damn smirk of his playing on his lips. Monsoon can tell he is holding himself back, fully aware of exactly who's house he is standing in, and the relationship between Monsoon and the Admiral.

It's been months since they've seen each other. Their goodbyes were said on the front porch of his little rental outside of Lake Hurst. Neither of them relished being in New Jersey, but they had each other and that's all that had mattered. They fostered a brand new relationship over a year, neither of them brave enough to label the nights spent together in that house.

Then new orders came down the pipeline, on a TS Need-To-Know. The pair were being separated with the flick of a pen. So, they labelled their year long relationship through tears standing on his stoop, the night the orders came down the channel.

They packed Jake's small house, and Monsoon's apartment, neither one knowing just what was to come. In the name of a temporary duty station, they got storage units next to each other, the closest thing to living together they'd be able to swing.

That was six months ago.

Monsoon did a little time in Pensacola while Jake got sent to Oak Harbor. Thousands of miles apart, their dates turned from late night dinners to quick conversations over the phone just to hear the other's voice.

Neither of them expected their reunion to be here, in Admiral Simpson's kitchen, with Bradley Bradshaw and the Admiral watching the whole thing, confused expressions written into their features.

"I got recalled to Top Gun!" Monsoon giggles a bit, her gaze still trapped with Hangman's.

"Me too!" The words leave Jake's lips and the pair are smiling. It's taking everything for them to hold themselves back from embracing each other, after months apart. Then, Cyclone is clearing his throat.

"Pops," Monsoon begins, clasping her hands in front of her, "God, this is weird. Remember earlier this evening when I said I wanted to talk to you about something?"

She had fully been intending on telling her Cyclone about her relationship with Hangman, in fact, she had been working up the courage for the past few weeks. But, Jake comes with a record, a reputation, and a respect problem, things Monsoon knows her Pops won't approve of.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" The words are leaving Cyclone's lips almost too quick, but Monsoon is quick to reassure him that it is.

"Well, this isn't exactly how I saw this going, but, Pops, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jake Seresin," Monsoon is gesturing to Jake now, a worried smile on her face. The pair know each other, of course they do. They had met the first time Hangman went through Top Gun. Cyclone was on instructor duty and Hangman didn't take overly well to being instructed; though he did finish top of his class.

Monsoon bobs up and down on the balls of her feet, the nervous energy flowing through her body. If she could push all the energy out of her and into the floor she would. Her soles grounding the electric current flowing through her, unapologetic and lightning hot. Monsoon would stand there in front of the three men who have played such a large roll in her life, back straight and eyes forward like the Navy trained her to do, if only she could coral that fucking energy and send it straight through the floor.

Monsoon bounces instead.

If she had the time, she could have prevented the look that crosses Cyclone's face. That look of you're not good enough for my kid that is so evident on his features. She knows that Jake saw it, clear as day from the way he almost winces. Everyone in that room knows the reputation that Hangman wears like a neon sign. The "voted biggest player" social life with the stellar callsign, the pilot known for leaving his wingman hanging, acting alone- selfish.

So much for putting off telling Cyclone; so much for easing him into the news.

Bradley is watching the whole exchange from his seat with his eyebrows raised, like a fucking soap opera but the whole spectacle's happening in real time. He lets his eyes shift from person to person, taking it all in. Monsoon looks hopeful, though she is waiting with baited breath for her Pops to blow a fucking gasket. Jake, on the other hand, looks absolutely cool. Though he is the reason for the interruption, and for the impromptu introduction, he is impossibly collected. Then, Bradley's eyes shift to Cyclone, who has backed up a few steps. He keeps looking between Monsoon and Hangman, like he is playing some sort of invisible game of connect the dots.

Hangman and his fucking reputation are courting his daughter, and Cyclone really isn't thrilled about the news.

Though Bradley isn't exactly thrilled to see Hangman here either, he's taking the whole thing in stride, as opposed to Cyclone, but the younger man can't exactly blame him. If it were Bradley getting this major bomb dropped on him, he wouldn't be sitting pretty, either. Bradley is bringing his glass up to his lips, his eyes still flashing between the trio.

"Monsoon-" Cyclone starts, but the sound of coughing interrupts. Bradley is coughing, choking on his water. He attempts to wave a hand, letting everyone know he's okay, but in reality, he's far from it.

Monsoon. The woman he left asleep in her bunk five years ago stands next to him now, and not only that, they fucking grew up together, at least for a little while. And she remembers his Dad, and she's Maverick's kid. And fuck, she's dating Hangman!

Things are moving just a bit too fast, and Bradley can't quite catch his breath between coughing fits.

The glass is quickly set back onto the kitchen table, but is sent over the edge as Bradley reaches for a napkin. The glass falls in faux slow motion, the liquid flowing from the cup as it hits the hardwood, shattering like a pinprick galaxy upon the floor. Bradley, still coughing, searches the new formation of cosmos on the floor for the answer to all the mixed up bullshit he has found himself in.

"Rooster?" Monsoon pats him harshly on the back, right between his shoulder blades. Then, she is rubbing his back, her hand full of warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin burns under her touch as he struggles to return his breathing to normal. There's still a knot in the back of his throat made of unsaid words and new revelations that he can't seem to swallow down.

"Rooster, are you okay?"

Hangman and Cyclone are quick to circle around the table, Hangman taking a knee next to Monsoon, his hand quickly finding her lower back. Cyclone is on the other side of Bradley, the glass crunching under his expensive leather loafers. Bradley is red from all the coughing, but an embarrassed blush still floods his skin from all the attention.

"Mons?" The nickname comes out all scratchy as Rooster wipes a newly formed tears from his eyes. The concerned expression morphs to hold a bit of shock before settling on some sort of mix of frustration and downright sadness. Monsoon tries to school her expression but her eyes still swim with emotion as they are locked with Bradley's.

"Yeah, Roos," Monsoon shoots his nickname right back, a confirmation that all but shakes the world around Bradley. She brings a tender hand up to squeeze his shoulder before pulling back, subconsciously leaning closer to Hangman, into the warmth of his hand on her back. She finds safety in her boyfriend's touch, the warmth of his skin pooling against her through the fabric of her dress.

The lack of contact makes Rooster feel cold, but the feeling is short lived as Cyclone is grasping at his other shoulder. A swivel of his head and Bradley is met with the furrowed brows of the Admiral.

"Are you okay, Mr. Bradshaw?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley responds, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "I'm so sorry about the glass, please, let me clean it up,"

As Rooster stands, he is pushed back down gently by Cyclone, his hand still on the younger man's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, please," And so Bradley is sitting again, in the center of the standing trio, feeling completely out of place. "As for the two of you, take a seat, we have some things to discuss,"

The sound of chairs being pulled out against the hard wood floor is accompanied by the intense ringing of the doorbell once again. The group look from person to person, once again looking for any clue as to who could be at the front door this time. Cyclone is padding over to the door, the crunching of glass less evident the further away her gets.

Bradley attempts to clear the lump in his throat, now without the luxury of his glass of water. Monsoon takes her untouched glass and slides it closer to Bradley, a barely there smile on her face. Her expression holds more sympathy than anything. Bradley takes the glass with both hands, a little too careful as he brings it up to his lips.

"Let me get you a plate, okay?" Monsoon speaks to Hangman, her smile clearly wider, brighter, more full of life when it's directed his way. "Pops will give me so much grief if he comes back and that spot isn't set,"

So, Monsoon excuses herself from the table, leaving the men sitting in apprehensive silence.

With a strong tug from Cyclone, door swings open and there is no time for a 'hello' as the man on the other side is pushing in, a wild look in his eye, a vein on his forehead bulging with frustration.

"We need to talk Simpson," The tone holds misplaced authority. Beau runs cold at the sight of Pete "Maverick" fucking Michell standing in his entryway, looking pissed off enough to catch a charge.

"That's Admiral Simpson to you Captain," Cyclone's teeth are grit so hard they might crack under the pressure of his jaw. "You cannot be here right now,"

The raised hand does nothing to stop Maverick from pushing further into the house. There's a folder in his hand, wrinkling under the closing of his fist. Sweat clings to the Admiral's brow, a vision of the crown of thorns, droplets running down the side of his face. It might as well have been blood from the way his stomach twists as Maverick steps closer to him, pushing the paperwork, right against the center of his chest.

"Do you know who got recruited for this mission, huh?" The words are dripping with venom, "Do you realize who you've chosen for this fucking death wish of a goddamn mission?"

Captain Michell's tone is all accusatory and full fury. He's pushing into Cyclone's chest harder, his knuckles white under the pressure. Cyclone grabs at the older man's wrist, his own knuckles paling as he squeezes.

"Captain, I will not repeat myself, you cannot be here,"

"Who is it, Pops?" Monsoon is calling from around the corner, her voice full of curiosity. Cyclone isn't a praying man, especially after what happened with June and their sweet baby boy, but now Cyclone is praying to every god, every deity that crosses his mind, even those who's names he cannot recall, that his daughter will not walk around the corner to see Pete Mitchell standing in his entry way.

"Nobody, kid, I'll be there in just a moment," He calls before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. He tightens his grip on Pete's wrist before he's wrenching it away from his chest. He pushes it back into Pete's own chest, leaning in close, "My daughter is not to see you here, leave. Now."

One might think Maverick would get the hint, since he pulls his hand from Cyclones grip. But then, Maverick is throwing open the file, pointing at the first page's photo. There is so much frustration in the action, it bounces between the two men like they're sounding boards, building and building.

"See this? Jake "Hangman" Seresin? You really want to send somebody in the sky who has a pension for leaving their wingman? You want to send someone into the air with a guy like him when the mission is already guaranteeing a loss of life?"

That catches the attention of the trio in the other room. All motion stills as they strain to hear more.

Wide mouthed, pointed tongue, Maverick is yelling without a care in the world. It doesn't matter who hears as long as Cyclone is hearing it too.

"And how about this," The paper tears as Maverick turns the page, "Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. You know about his father. You damn well know about Goose and you want to send his son to an early grave too?"

Jaws tick, fists tighten. Cyclone breathes deeply, thinking- choosing his words carefully as the older man continues to scream. It's not beautiful or noble like books would describe. There is no gift from God, no blessing, no one anointed with the ability to see into the future, to see just how this is going to play out. Instead, it's just words exchanged between mortal men, both too damn stubborn to back down with knives to each other's throats.

"And check out these two," Maverick is laughing now, leaning in closer to Cyclone, his breathe reeking of whiskey. Cyclone can see the way Maverick's eyes are bloodshot and weepy as he pushes him back. Sweat coats his skin leaving him clammy to the touch.

"Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Robert "Bob" Floyd," Another strangled laugh escapes Captain Mitchell, "You really think this scrawny kid and a woman are up to the task at hand? Really? I can think of at least five better pilots and Wizzos who are better qualified than these two. And look! She's the pilot! Hell, I don't even know how they made it through Top Gun the first time around! The fucking Navy is getting soft."

"It's time for you to go, Captain Mitchell. Sober up. We will discuss this on Monday," Cyclone puts a hand to the older man's shoulder, attempting to usher him out without too much force. Cyclone can't risk Maverick being in his house any longer. He has already been gone too long and his guests are likely getting curious. "Time to go, Pete,"

"But, Cyclone, you haven't even heard the best part," Maverick can barely get the words out through drunken laughter. He's turning the page with clumsy fingers, the paper tearing under his touch.

The trio, Rooster, Monsoon, and Hangman round the corner as Cyclone is attempting to usher Maverick out the front door. They watch as the Maverick stumbles out of Cyclone's grip and further into the house.

"Pops?" Monsoon speaks as the strange man hits the floor, laughing as he does. The file has fallen open, scattering pictures of the newest Top Gun brain child called The Dagger Squad. They sit scattered all over the entry way like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes go to the paper that falls near her feet.

"Well if it isn't the prodigal child," Maverick speaks, pushing himself further off the floor. "How many strings did you have to pull to get your own daughter onto the squad? Are you trying to send this kid to an early grave like the last one?"

The three Daggers stand speechless. Monsoon is quickly folded under Hangman's arm, her face pressed into his chest. Rooster stands just off to the side of them, his eyes flashing to Monsoon.

The arguing doesn't stop.

"Shut your mouth," Cyclone spits, "You don't know a goddamn thing,"

Maverick stumbles to his feet, standing up at straight as possible to get into Cyclone's face, just to taunt the younger man.

"See, Admiral, that's not true, now is it? You and I both know that she isn't actually yours and this would be an easy way to get rid of her, right? Send her back to-"

His words are met with a swift punch to the face, the cartilage of his nose crunching under Cyclone's knuckles. The punch feels good, like it had been coming for a long, long time. Like it had been building within Beau Simpson for years, every single time Maverick missed out on a celebration of the amazing life Monsoon is leading. For every birthday, every graduation, every reenlistment and promotion ceremony, Maverick missed it all, and the rage built inside Cyclone. Now, it finally came out, popped like a Champaign cork, blood instead of the fizzy alcohol dotting itself over Cyclone's entryway.

A warm hand slips into Monsoon's; Bradley stepped closer, clutching onto her. He recognized Pete Mitchell the moment he got a clear view, both his anger and anxiety flaring. Bradley squeezed her hand once, nice and strong, before dropping it once more, stepping in front of her and Hangman.

"Captain Mitchell," Bradley begins, his voice firm, full of hurt.

The words make Monsoon's head spin. She leans away from her boyfriend's chest to get a better look at the bloody faced man and it sends a chill down her spine. Her Dad who she hasn't seen in years is now standing in a room full of people who can't fucking stand his existence. It's a fucking miracle that all he has is a bloody nose.

"Bradley," Pete spits a little bit of blood as he speaks, looking up at the younger man. He reaches a hand out, but it's dodged. "It's good to see you, son,"

"I'm not your son. It's time for you to go," Bradley is ready to grab Pete Mitchell by the collar and haul him out of the house. He's ready to throw him onto the lawn and leave him there to spit blood and sober up enough until he can walk himself home. Bradley has his own selfish reasons, his own grudge against the Captain, and now would be as good a time as any to feed into that frustration that he's been stewing in for years.

"I'm calling Admiral Kazansky," Cyclone declares to the room, then he's spinning on his heel the moment Bradley takes a step closer, clearly putting himself between Maverick and Monsoon.

The Admiral is ordering Hangman to move, to take his daughter anywhere else so that she doesn't have to see any more of the disaster that the night has turned out to be. He doesn't want her to see him throw Maverick out- hell, he didn't want her to see him punch the older man, but there's no going back in time.

As much as Cyclone wishes he could have protected her from this, he couldn't. One can't stop a speeding bullet, as they say, and the shot had already been fired the moment he pulled open the front door. And as much as he doesn't want to, Cyclone has to trust Hangman with his daughter, he just has to, now.

So, Hangman is all but carrying Monsoon away as she fights to stay put. She misses the order from her Pops, her blood thrumming too loudly through her ears. Hangman takes her through the house, dodging the pile of glass still glittering on the hardwood in the kitchen, hauling her out the backdoor and right to his truck. Monsoon flights the whole time, though it's unclear as to her reason to want to say behind.

The pair are pulling away from the house as Bradley and Beau are hauling Maverick out to the front lawn, his nose still pouring blood.

Jake drives in the direction of his apartment, holding onto her hand the whole time. He squeezes it reassuringly though there isn't much he can assure her of at the moment. Neither of them know what's going to come of Maverick, or of Cyclone's heated action against him. They don't know if Bradley is going to get caught in the crossfire, or if they are going to get called into the MP's office sometime in the middle of the night.

There is no clear answer, so, Hangman squeezes her hand and drives.

And drives.

As far away as he can get from that house, that situation, the feeling in his chest spurred on by the broken look in Monsoon's eyes.

He drives until the sun crests over the horizon. Pulling off onto the side of the highway, Hangman kills the headlights, the world around them just beginning to come to life. That's when the tears come, falling fast and hard from the pools of Monsoon's eyes. Hangman just holds her there, inside of the truck.

The world around them awakens as Monsoon's falls apart, crumbling like unquenched Earth between her fingers. Maybe that's what the whole situation is, after all, how many times have the great authors related relationships to gardens, to plants, to life. Without nurture, without care and tending, the soil dries out, the plants die. The whole garden becoming a wasteland for the decaying plant matter; the soil turning to clay as the days roll on.

But isn't decay an unescapable fact of life?

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Two weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Hangman had completely expected to pretend like the whole fight at the Admiral's house didn't happen when he met up with the other recruits at the bar, save for Monsoon. He took a little too much joy ordering drinks for the team on Maverick's tab- the older man not seeming to remember him from the incident, even after Hangman sent him a wink and a "thanks, Pops,".

When Bradley strutted in like the world was full of golden promise, Hangman took it upon himself to act like it was the first time they had seen each other in years. Bradshaw was quick to get the memo: last week didn't happen.

There's no surprise that Maverick got thrown out of the Hard Deck that night, either. Hangman sure as hell wasn't expecting to be the one to throw Maverick out of the bar, but that part gave him a sense of pride that he can't quite put words to.

The feeling bloomed in his chest as he watched Maverick hit the sand. A wide smile spread across his face as he yelled for him to "come back anytime," if that meant getting more free alcohol and the chance to throw him out again. Then, as Hangman closed the doors behind him while Rooster began one hell of a rendition of "Great Balls of Fire", everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

Tensions are high now, Hangman and Rooster's rivalry is back and stronger than ever. They have been at each other's throats since that night at the Hard Deck, though the reason wasn't the mission or the usual dick measuring contest, even if the other recruits would say that it is.

They have been battling it out over a woman. Monsoon, specifically. The team doesn't know about her involvement with Hangman, and the pair try and keep it that way. So, she sits in the back of the classroom, right behind Yale and does her best to pay attention. The mission seems more impossible by the minute, the deadline has been moved up, and nobody has been successful.

Rooster and Maverick argue about the plane vs the pilot and how he had been the only one to make it to the target, though it was a minute late.

Then, Hangman opens his fucking mouth, living up to that reputation of his. "It's no time to be thinking about the past,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rooster's expression is unreadable, though his brows twitch.

"I can't be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man!" Hangman continues through Maverick's pleas, "Or that he was the one flying when-"

Rooster is out of his seat in a matter of seconds, launching himself at his fellow Lieutenant. Hangman took it too far this time. Rooster gets one good push in before the rest of the squad are separating the two hot headed men from each other, everyone yelling for the fighting to stop.

Everyone but Monsoon, who sits in the back staring at the fight in front of her and can't seem to make herself move.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, hey, I'm cool, I'm cool," Hangman reassures, pulling out of the arms of his teammates.

"He's not cut out for this mission, you know it... You know I'm right." He gets up into Bradley's face, a fucking smirk on his lips. The others are still holding Bradley back as he calms down, but it's that fucking smirk that spurs him on.

Bob's hands slip from Rooster's shoulders as he gets into Hangman's face. "You think you can talk shit about my family when it's your girl that's got the most fucked up situation of all," Bradley keeps his eyes trained on Hangman, but the blonde's eyes tick to the side, in the direction of Monsoon, who is still in her seat. It's Bob who notices the way Hangman's eyes shift, and he's the first person to look in Monsoon's direction. Then, Bob's nudging Phoenix.

They watch as Monsoon tenses in her seat, her jaw ticking. Her hands grip the arms of her chair, knuckles white. Then, Bob and Phoenix turn their attention back to the men as the screaming match continues.

"I'm not the one who broke up with her on a goddamn post-it note, Rooster," Hangman points out with a raise of his brows, that stupid little smirk still evident on his lips. Rooster is bringing his hands up to his temples, his expression scrunched.

"You son of a bitch," Rooster is cursing at him through grit teeth, his voice low.

The crowd of Aviators are still gathered around the two men watching them fight, Maverick's eyes flicking between them as words are exchanged. His mind flashes back to two weeks ago, when he broke down the Admiral's door and saw them standing there with Cyclone. He suddenly flashes his eyes back to Monsoon, only to be met with her piercing glare.

"What? Was taking her father for yourself not good enough for you? Did you have to break her heart too?" Hangman questions, watching as Bradley's face contorts, "You're just pissed because not only could you not keep your shit Rio of a father around, you couldn't keep the girl, either,"

"That's enough!" Monsoon shouts, her eyes finally leaving Maverick. The Daggers' eyes are locked on Monsoon at the back of the makeshift classroom, anger evident on her features. Then, with her hands firmly planted on the table in front of her, she is pushing up from her seat.

"Seresin," Monsoon begins, turning her eyes to him, "First, you will not speak about my uncle that way. Goose was a good man and a damn good Rio. Uncle Nicky would have moved the fucking Earth for Bradley, or for Maverick, or for me and my Mama, don't you dare think anything different."

Monsoon is moving closer to the group now, taking each step slowly, methodical as her words. There is a large, yellow envelope tucked under her arm as she approaches. She had been sitting with that envelope since their first class, no one having even the slightest idea what's tucked inside.

"Secondly, Rooster, my relationship with Jake is not your business, not now, not ever. What we had was over the moment you wrote that post-it and walked out the door. You didn't even remember the fact that we grew up together, for fucks sake. I get it, I was your little deployment fling, and that's all. Now, you get to live with the fact that's all I'll ever be. Hangman put you in your place, now say in it."

The crowd is too stunned to speak, but there is a rumble of laughter that escapes Maverick. He doesn't even try to hide it, thinking the tension in the air would be enough to cover it. But then, Monsoon is turning her pointed gaze to him.

"Finally, Captain Mitchell," There is a sick little smirk on her lips as she says his name, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After all, Bradley had to get his pension for forgetting women from somebody."

Monsoon is standing toe to toe with Maverick now, eyes locked in on his, "After all, I've been in this class for what, two weeks, and I know you have had the roster for longer than that, considering that little stunt you pulled at my Pop's house. You think it's funny to forget someone when your own flesh and blood is standing right in front of you?"

Maverick furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. Monsoon can practically see the gears turning in his head with the way his eyes move across her features. She breathes deeply a couple of times, letting his mind piece the puzzle together.

"I asked you a question, but go ahead, take your time," Monsoon leans in just a fraction further, "After all, I'm told I look more like my mother, anyway," Wide eyes from the man in front of her stir out a strangled giggle from her chest.

"Wha- bu-" Maverick flounders, his mouth opening and closing, no words forming on his lips.

"Hi, Dad," The name is said with so much venom as she pushes the envelope against his chest with enough force to make him stumble. Monsoon doesn't wait for him to recover before she is turning to walk down the aisle of the makeshift classroom, paying no attention to the stares, the eyes burning holes into the back of her head. Instead she focuses on the momentary feeling of lightness that washes over her as she leaves the hanger.

It isn't until Monsoon rounds the corner that the tears begin pricking at her eyes. She takes off running as soon as the first one hits her cheek, the only thing she can hear over the rushing of blood in her ears is the thunking of her heavy boots on the pavement.

The Daggers stand looking at Maverick. He's holding the envelope to his chest, unsure of the emotions wracking though his body. Then, with a quick hand, he's crudely tearing at the envelope. The contents pour out over the floor of the hanger, looking just like that night at Admiral Simpson's house. Maverick tries to push that thought from his mind as his eyes focus in on the papers covering the floor.

Birthday Cards. Children's birthday cards.

The same ones he wrote to her for her first ten birthdays. He can't even get himself to bend down to pick one up, his neck aching from the way he stares down at them. He notices the little circles of wrinkled paper from long dried tears and his heart fucking breaks.

The image of Monsoon at four, at seven, that he can see clearly in his mind, but there's a gap missing. Still, Maverick imagines her sitting and rereading the cards at seventeen, at twenty-two, crying over them and the father she could barely remember. Tears prick at Mavericks eyes and he lets them, making no attempt to wipe them away.

It doesn't take long for the Daggers to figure out that the pile of cards is noticeably small, no more than nine or ten cards on the ground, though no one is near brave enough to say anything.

Moments like this remind Maverick he's still just a mere man. No matter how many records he breaks, aircrafts he tests, or brushes with death he encounters, Maverick is nothing more than a man with a skill set. He has flaws. He makes mistakes.

That fact is almost too much for him to take.

The memory of Goose flashes through his mind, the moments leading up to the failed ejection birth the feeling of ocean water weighing down his flight suit, soaking into the padding of his helmet as the water washes over them. So much blood where there should be none. And then Maverick is thinking about cleaning the scraped knees of his daughter, the blood bubbling up through the road rash. The tears, then, were hers as she begged, "Daddy, not the ouch-y cleaner, I don't like it,". But Maverick cleaned her wounds with the alcohol anyway, only to end up holding her against his chest in the same way he would hold Goose in less than a year.

Maverick's mind is a patchwork quilt of shit memories; stuck reliving them all, fragment by fragment.

"Class dismissed," Maverick manages, his eyes still glued to the floor. The sounds of fourteen pairs of boots, first loud then quieter as they go, leave the hanger, leaving him standing there, looking at the past he threw away illustrated simply in faded and forgotten birthday cards.

The hands of the clock circle once before Maverick moves. He walks right over the pile, his boots leaving angry, dark tread marks across the colorful paper. He doesn't look back once, not at the pile of cards, not at the hanger, not at the base.

He drives straight for the Hard Deck. It's the only thing he can think to do, and after all, maybe Penny has some sort of advice. She's the only person he actually knows with a kid- a daughter.

Maverick only makes it half way before he has to pull over. Quickly, he throws himself off his bike, his knees hitting the dirt as he empties the contents of his stomach. As a pilot, he should have a stronger stomach than this, but a choice he made almost eighteen years ago is coming back to haunt him.

He can still see Monsoon's eyes in the forefront of his mind. They haven't changed a bit from when she was a kid, Maverick realizes, as he's sat back on his haunches trying not to puke again. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the feeling of his swirling stomach.

Maybe he should have stuck around, or at least circled back when he wasn't on deployment. After all, Maria left messages on his machine for almost two years after he up and left. It started with her begging to call which slowly turned into begging him to at least send a fucking birthday card. So he did.

Then, she stopped calling, and he stopped writing. Monsoon grew up.

It would be so easy to blame Maria. When she stopped calling, he stopped remembering. Between deployments and missions, flight tests and ceremonies, Maverick could pretend that it all got lost in the shuffle. But then, he remembers Maria and the way she always seemed to flawlessly manage her Naval carrier with raising their daughter, how she could juggle it all without his help when he was deployed and it was all okay. At least that's what he told himself.

So, he thought if she could do it alone already, no harm could come from putting in for extra duty. That turned into extra deployments, more time away from home. He knew it was all a lie, but he had to tell himself something to justify it.

It did get easier after a while, as his daughter slowly slipped to the back of his mind. It wasn't until one day, six years after he left that the realization hit him. Maverick hadn't thought of his daughter in months. He should have felt more guilty; he drank himself sick at the thought.

Two years later Maverick didn't even realize he missed her eighteenth birthday.

Or her twenty-first.

Over the years he convinced himself he did the right thing. That part of his past became a distant memory that he told himself he didn't miss. Maverick would be lying to himself if he still believed that to be true in this moment, sat on the side of the road after having been faced with the consequences of his long forgotten actions.

Maverick kept one constant reminder playing on repeat in his mind all those years, You can't be a bad father if you aren't there to be one at all.

And for the first time since he walked out, Maverick thinks he may have been wrong.

He sits on the side of the road until the sun sets, stewing in his misery. When he manages to pull himself back up onto his bike, he heads for home, knowing that if Penny knew the whole story he would be on the outs with her, too. And so, he drives slowly, back to an empty house, wishing for the first time in years that it wouldn't be empty when he got there.

---

When Monsoon finally reached Cyclone's office, eight blocks from the hanger, she almost collapsed in the entryway of the building. But, she pushed through the crowd, ignoring the calls of his assistant who insisted that Cyclone could not be interrupted while he was in a meeting. Monsoon couldn't find it in herself to care.

When she pushes the door to his office open, she is met with three pairs of eyes. Iceman, Warlock, and Cyclone's eyes meet her frame. She is breathing heavy from the mix of running and sobbing, though it's unclear as to which is causing the redness in her cheeks.

"Excuse me, recruit, but you can't-" Warlock starts, closing the file sitting in his lap. There is an edge to his tone, not taking too kindly to being interrupted.

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Cyclone is cutting off Warlock without a second thought. The moment he moves out from behind his desk, Monsoon is throwing herself into his arms, her barely contained tears now overflowing. Without a second thought, Cyclone is folding her into his arms, doing his best to hold her shaking form.

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her," Cyclone's assistant huffs, running a hand through his hair. Cyclone waves the younger man off, the door closing behind him with a click. Then, Cyclone is wrapping his daughter tighter in his arms, one hand coming up to rub between her shoulders while the other is wrapped securely around her waist.

"I'm sorry, gentleman, but the meeting will have to be continued another time," Cyclone speaks, his tone clear, unwavering. Warlock shakes his head but gets up to leave anyway. Iceman follows after him, nodding a sort of good luck to his fellow Admiral before closing the door behind him.

"Tell me what's wrong, kid," Cyclone is pulling back, his hands squeezing at her shoulders. Monsoon is rubbing at her cheeks, smearing her tears over the expanse of her face. It's the same ugly cry she had when they first met, and the connection make's Cyclone's heart twist.

"I-" She starts, sentence interrupted by a hiccupping gasp, "Everything is falling apart,"

Monsoon tries to wipe at her face again with her hands, but Cyclone plunges a hand into his pocket only to offer her a green pocket hanky a second later. She takes it with unsteady fingers, her heart still thrumming a mile a minute.

"Hangman and Rooster got in a fight in class. Jake said a shitty thing about my uncle Nicky, Goose, you know?"

"Bradley shoved Jake, which isn't exactly a surprise, but then he told everyone that my family situation is all kinds of fucked up, which it is, but it's nobody else's business. God, Pops, I know now that I made a mistake when I started seeing Rooster while we were on deployment together, but God, that was five years ago! It's in the past!"

Cyclone nods at her, listening intently while trying to keep calm. So much new information is being thrown at him with each sentence that leaves her lips and it makes him angry.

"Worst of all, though," Monsoon wipes at her nose with the hanky, "Maverick knows,"

"He knows?"

"I told him," She confirms with a whimper and a nod, not daring to meet Cyclone's eyes. If she managed to meet them, she would have been met with nothing but rage boiling behind his irises, red hot flames behind the dark brown of his eyes.

"I had to, everything was already coming out anyway," She laments.

"What did he have to say for himself?" The question is asked through grit teeth as he pulls her body tighter against his, a move meant to feel protective but does nothing to quell the flames burning Cyclone from the inside out. All Monsoon can do is shake her head "no" as she sobs against the denseness of his chest.

"I'm gonna kill him" is all Cyclone can think as he rests his chin against her hair. His jaw ticks as the flaming feeling overtakes his body. If he could, he would strip Maverick of every single one of his achievements, his medals, his rank. He would cut the older man down so far that he was nothing more than a civilian with a dishonorable discharge.

But he can't.

So instead, he holds his daughter as she cries. He lets her tears soak the tan fabric of his uniform top, the buttons scraping against her skin. He rubs her back and whispers into her hair, promises that everything will be okay.

---

Somewhere in the Pacific. The Uranium Mission. Three weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Moments after the Uranium mission is completed, the team piled on the aircraft carrier, all grateful to be alive. Monsoon and Hangman got sent up to shoot down the enemy aircraft, saving Maverick and Rooster. The whole thing left nothing but swirls of confusion and gratitude in Monsoon's heart.

On one hand, she is so thankful that everyone made it back home. There will be no funerals, no folded flags and no Taps to be played. Instead there will be celebrations, beer and cheering and one too many speeches for a job well done. The whole thing should be liberating as their impending doom has been starved off for the time being, however there is still a feeling of anxiety sitting heaving in her chest.

Now, Monsoon is stuck watching the pair climb out of the museum piece that they managed to land on the carrier. The wind is whipping past them as she watches the team embrace the two men. Her strangled feelings clog her chest as she makes her way into the fray, first approaching Bradley.

"Glad to have you back on the ground," Monsoon shouts over the crowd.

"It's good to be back, even if it's not quite the ground," Bradley attempts to joke, "But seriously, we owe everything to you and Hangman,"

"Nobody left behind," Monsoon holds her hand out to Bradley, a gesture of good will.

"Nobody left behind," Rooster echoes, taking her hand in his own.

As they shake hands, a sort of understanding forms between them. They share a look, one that reads no hard feelings and Bradley almost tears up. Then, they are pulling back from each other, sharing one last smile.

Monsoon watches Bradley disappear into the crowd, his tall frame quickly swallowed up by the sea of uniforms. She catches him shake hands with Hangman a moment later, the scene bringing a small smile to her lips.

Then, Maverick catches her eye, standing a few yards away. There are tears shining in his eyes, but he makes no effort to move forward. They share eye contact for a moment as people move between them. Monsoon offers him a half smile, her brows lifted just slightly. Before Maverick can return it, she nods at him. He nods back, then it's his turn to watch her disappear into the crowd.

It's not quite an understanding, but maybe it's a truce.

At the risk of breaking her own heart, Monsoon chances a look over her shoulder. She watches as Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug, or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to tell with the swarming of bodies. Either way, the pair wear bright smiles as they embrace and Monsoon doesn't even try to fight off the tears that make their way to her eyes. They aren't tears of anger, no, they are tears of gratitude. Grateful that they all get to live another day, grateful that Maverick and Bradley are giving each other a second chance, and grateful that there isn't a looming cloud hanging over her head anymore.

She no longer has to wonder about her father, because now she knows he's exactly where he is supposed to be, and both of their lives are better for it. Instead, she has Cyclone, the best father she could have ever asked for, and that is more than enough.

Cyclone breaks through the crowd, pulling his daughter into his arms, more than thankful for her safe return. He shouts at her, over the crowd, about how well she did and how happy he is that she made it back. The pair hold each other tight for another few moments, neither ready to let go.

Maverick takes one more look at Monsoon, who's now folded into Cyclone's arms. It's an unfamiliar sight but not an unwelcomed one, for Maverick. One thing's for sure, she is exactly like her Pops- disciplined and talented in the cockpit of a jet. Even more, though, beyond being a good aviator, she is a good person and that's something that Maverick can't regret.

---

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. One year after the completion of the Uranium Mission and the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A year later, Cyclone and Monsoon find themselves sitting in The Flight Line Bar, her hand thrust out in front of her, ring glittering under the amber lights.

"You're going to give me away at my wedding, right?" There is a sort of apprehension to her voice as she sips on her beer.

"It would be my honor, kid," Cyclone slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her sideways into him. He holds her there for a second before letting her sit back upright, a large smile on her lips.

"Y/N Seresin has a good ring to it," Cyclone adds, bringing his beer up to his lips.

"About that," Monsoon starts, causing the Admiral to set his beer down, "Jake and I had a conversation, and we thought that having two Aviators in the same squad with the same last name would get confusing, so it's going to be Y/N Simpson, if that's okay with you,"

The Admiral's eyes flood with tears before he can say a single word. They quickly spill down his cheeks and all he can do is look at his daughter, tears of her own overtaking her eyes.

"I take that as a "yes"?" Monsoon chuckles, wiping her eyes with a shitty bar napkin.

"Of course it's a yes, kid," Cyclone grabs her hand, holding it on top of the bar.

The pair sit, hand in hand , tears still wet on their faces and all Cyclone can think about is how fucking lucky he got, how blessed his life is. He finally has a daughter who is happy and in love, a daughter that he will get to walk down the aisle on the most important day of her life.

When he chances a glance over to her, Cyclone can see the frizz of her hair highlighted by the neon sign buzzing behind her, her cheeks bright red. For a moment, he can see June in the roundness of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Cyclone thinks back to all those years ago, when he and Monsoon first met sitting in this same bar, but he doesn't entertain the memory very long, after all, he has so much to look forward to. So instead, he squeezed her hand.

"I love you, kid," Beau tells her earnestly, smiling though a few stray tears.

"I love you too, Pops," Monsoon returns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Now and always,"

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