The Proposal - Rooster x reader

Summary: Your boyfriend rooster has plans to propose, and the day of, you decide to do a crazy stunt and end up loosing connection with the tower, leaving rooster worried for your whereabouts. Will rooster’s proposal go as planned?

Request: (summarized) from the wonderful @tinfoilhat2719 “hey! could you write something where the reader and rooster are dating and he plans to propose. the reader is a pilot and one day decided to do a crazy stunt in the air, and of course rooster gets worried. when she lands….” (you will see;))

A/N: Well, I watched top gun: maverick again yesterday, and when I say I sobbed, I SOBBED. I got this request a couple days ago, and i’ve been busy working away at it since - sorry it took so song, i’ve been so busy these last few days with prep for visiting my uni this weekend (with me luck lol). I am in-love with rooster now, so enjoy this story that is chaotic but fun :) also, i’m not a professional pilot, so enjoy me trying to describe this flight maneuverlol.I LOVE YOU ALL xoxo - Mackenzie :) (ps, the readers call sign is “Shadow”).

Wordcount: 4.8k

“You got a ring and everything?” maverick asked, looking at a small blue box in the palm of roosters hand, “when the hell did you get so grown up?”

rooster flashed him a quick grin and then opened the box to show him the faded gold band, with a sparkling diamond in the centre and two smaller ones on either side. the ring was gorgeous and classy in an old fashioned type of way, and that was the perfect thing for his girlfriend, or should we say, soon to be fiancé??

As rooster slipped the box back into the pocket of his jeans, the air between him and maverick fell silent. “Do you have any advice on this sort of thing?” he asked maverick, who’s definition of commitment was a three month long fling involving motorcycle rides, steamy kisses (and rounds of forceful sex) , and singing along to the songs on the radio.

“Rooster,” he said, putting a hand on the young pilots shoulder, “I’m not the best at this kind-of stuff.” Rooster looked away, unsure of why he asked anyways. Maverick noticed and spoke up, “Look at me, it took me thirty years to finally realize that penny was all I had ever wanted in life. And we both know you’re way smarter than that.”

Roosters lips curled up sideways into a smirk, “You got that right pop.”

Any time someone - particularly one of his students, - would refer to maverick as ‘pop’ or 'old man’ they would get a light slap on the shoulder, and maverick would put on a show about how he hated being referred to as a senior. But whenever rooster call him that, his heart (yes, maverick has a heart) would swell a tiny bit just to know that Bradley thought of him as a father figure. And hell, he was here right now asking him for advice on his proposal.

“You’re a great guy Bradley,” maverick begun, “and y/n’s a great girl. the two of you make quite the pair!”

Rooster grinned, fumbling the wallet sized photo of y/n that he kept in his flight suit pocket. It was a photo of you on the beach, yes, thatbeach. The one beach in Italy that was a favourite spot of yours, where you would spend hours walking the sand and swimming in the sea with your lover. The portrait was of you in an airy white linen shirt, a pair of shorts, and your sun-kissed hair was messily kept beneath one of Bradley’s baseball caps. A smile, glowing brightly on your face. The sort of smile that came after a bought of laughter; the sort of smile in which your eyes turned up, and your nose was crinkled. The sort of smile that was only found on your face whenever rooster was near.

“I wish I had more experience in this type of thing,” maverick said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but man, when you have it, you have it.”

“And hey,” maverick said patting rooster on the back, “You’ll be a great husband. Anyone who has you in their life is lucky, because rooster, you are one of the best people I know.”

…

“Are you going up today?” phoenix asked, tucking one final bobby pin in her dark hair.

“Yeah,” you said, “I’m thinking about trying out a new maneuver.”

Phoenix, one of the only other female pilots on base, and your wild roommate, always was keen on hearing about your latest plans to spice things up in the sky. “Really?” she asked, eyes bright, “I want to hear all about it!”

So, on your afternoon walk to the flight depot, you told phoenix everything. Every gruelling detail, and little insignificant note was spilled, and phoenix was glad to hear it. “That is so badass,” she said after you told her about your plans, “I haven’t even tried the cobra yet!”

You tucked a loose strand of hair back into your bun and grinned, “Hey,” you said, smirking, “I can be your wingman anytime.”

Phoenix laughed, having picked up on the saying that was often bounced around Captain Mitchell and Admiral Kazanzky, some inside joke of theirs from their old days at top gun??

“If I did that with bob in the back, he would neverforgive me,” phoenix said, putting on her favourite pair of aviators, “I love him to death, but he is so work driven that sometimes he forgets to have fun.”

You were glad that you flew solo, just you and your f-18 up in the sky. It also worked whenever you wanted to try something new, because with a bask seater, you have someone else to think about as opposed to just yourself and your jet.

“Be safe up there Shadow,” phoenix said, giving you, her friend and flat-mate a squeeze on the shoulder, “I wanna see you for drinks later tonight.”

You grinned, “Count me in.”

…

At the flight depot, you saw your boyfriend rooster standing there, all suited up in his flight gear which was identical to yours. “Hi,” you said, walking over, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Hey,” he said, putting his arm around you, grinning at your sight, “Going up soon?” he asked.

You nodded, taking your aviators from the pocket of your t-shirt and putting them properly on, “I’m doing the flight by point Loma today, then the circle loop around generals bay.”

Rooster nodded, “I was out early this morning, so its just a fun afternoon of paperwork for me,” he smirked.

“I’m thinking about trying a new maneuver,” you said brightly.

Rooster shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, “God,” he sighed, rolling his eyes as he laughed, “You and your crazy stunts. Your just like maverick!”

You laughed, “well, he was one of my first instructors!”

The clock on the wall read 5:35, it was time to get going, after all, you had booked the 5:45 flight slot.

“I gotta go babe,” you said, squeezing roosters shoulder, “Listen for me on the radio if you’d like. It might make your paperwork more interesting!”

Rooster always listened to the radio when you were up in the air. Even before the two of you begun dating, rooster always listened to the radios, back at top gun, even back in flight school where the two of you had first met.

One day in the cafeteria when you were trying to buy a protein bar from the vending machine, the machine wouldn’t take your quarters, and lucky for you, rooster was behind you and offered his one dollar bills instead. He got you the snack and instead of taking your change like you had insisted, he opted to hear about the cobra maneuver - which you had just tried the day before, and nearly succeeded - instead.

The two of you became friends and one night at the bar, a drunken almost-kiss lead for unfamiliar feelings for the both of you, which you were forced to face the next day in class when you were assigned a task together.

“About last night,” rooster had said, stopping in the corridor outside the classroom, “I’m not sure how you felt about that, but um,” he paused, unsure of what to say next.

But then you and your smart mouth interjected, “I like you too rooster.”

The two of you had laughed and then arranged a date, and since then, the two of you - despite the jobs taking place an oceans away- have remained close and very much in love.

“Just, be safe up there,” rooster said, kissing your temple, “alright?”

You gave him a nod, “You got it lieutenant Bradshaw!”

After doing all of the necessary and required pre-flight checks, the sound of your f-18 roaring to life was like music to your ears. Although, it was a rather gruff sound, that at times could be quite gruelling to listen to due to the power of the dual engines, but it served as a reminder of how hard you had worked to find your place as a naval aviator. Another reminder, one that made you incredibly pleased, was the sticker bearing your name “y/n "Shadow” y/l/n" beneath the canopy that you grinned at each time you stepped into your aircraft.

It wasn’t always the easiest thing being a female in a male-dominated career, but your name on this lustrous aircraft proved it was all worth it, now if only the pricks who thought that you didn’t belong could agree. The hurtful truth is that no matter how far you got in the navy, there would always be one person with a snide remark for you, always one who would choose to loathe you based on your gender, always one who would go out of their way to make you feel as if you didn’t belong. It was hard at first, but after you got a feel for who supported you, and wanted you to succeed, work was more enjoyable than it had been before.

A woman’s voice from the tower filled your ears; those four little words that made your heart swell, “All go for takeoff.” And with a big groan of force courtesy of the throttle, you were barreling fast and hard down the runway, and before you knew it, you were up in sky, pulling 3g’s right off the get go.

The gravitational force sent you back into your seat, a feeling that excited you although you were used to by now. You remembered at first, when you were learning how to fly, the feeling that would accompany takeoff. The feeling that your eyes were going to fall back into your head, and that your legs were being pushed away behind you. The coat of sweat and the tremors that would accompany the first pull into the sky. From time to time, you still found yourself getting nervous, but the more that you thought about being up in the sky, the less the impending thoughts seemed to bother you.

The sky seemed especially blue today, and the clouds were few but gorgeous. “On your six Shadow,” Payback said through the microphone, singling that he was behind you as expected.

Usually, when you were just going up for a flight, the commander would send another jet, just to have two eyes and ears checking out the sky. You weren’t looking for anything in particular but instead just practicing and maintaining your flight techniques. Today, your wingman was Payback, and his wso, Fanboy.

“Copy payback,” you said, turning in your seat, glancing back at the fellow f-18 behind you.

“On the way back, theres something I want to try,” you said, grinning.

In the other jet, coyote was shaking his head and payback was smirking, “Another one of your stunts shadow?” he asked lightly.

“Affirmative,” you replied, now soaring over point Loma.

“Hey,” payback begun, “at least its us and not Yale and Juno flying with you today. They hate that sort of stuff.”

“Not us though,” payback said, giving you his support, “we love the show!”

“why are you waiting until the end?” fanboy asked, clipping on his mask into the side of his helmet.

Good question? why am I waiting until the end of the flight to do my trick?

“How about I do it at generals bay?” you asked, “Give the people on the beach a bit of a show?”

Payback laughed, “No one flys like you do Shadow.”

Generals bay approached quicker than you had expected, and a glaze of sweat was beginning to coax your brow. You felt the sweat along the back of your neck, the wispy ends of your bun messily tangled in your helmet. God, its hot today.

You made the loop around the point, and on your way back north, payback and fanboy flew up beside you. “The stage is all yours Shadow,” payback said, fanboy in the back giving you a hearty thumbs up.

The'stage’or in this case, the clear clear almost-evening sky, was wide open for you, ready for your stunt.

So, giving the jet just a bit more gas, pulling the throttle back ever so slightly, you climbed higher in the sky, and then once at your satisfied altitude, you tilted the front of your jet to a near vertical descent, the water looking veryblue beneath you.

You felt yourself catch on the straps of your seat belt as your altitude began to drop, now it was time for the main attraction.

Plummeting towards the ground, you manoeuvred the jet in a spiral pattern, resembling a corkscrew type of wave, moving the control so the spiral turns would pull even more g’s than usual. A wave of thrill rushed over you as you approached the earth, the altitude giving you a play by play, each number being read aloud by the automated voice, “15,000, 14,000, 13,000.”

When the automated voice screeched that you were around 7,000 feet, you pulled up, but not in the traditional sense. You levelled off your jet to go at a straight line, but however, you were inverted, still facing the ground, the blood rushing to your head, a feeling you thrived to feel when upside down in a jet. At first it was disorienting, but after your third and fourth time upside down, you get used to it.

“How was that boys?” you asked your wingmen, “Like the inverted flying?”

Payback hollered into the radio and fanboy laughed. “There’s no one who flys like you y/n,” said fanboy.

“Well, maybe except mav!” Payback said.

“One last thing,” you said, puling the jet up, now you were going sparing into the sky, speeding beside the other f-18, making payback grip the controls just a bit firmer than he had before.

“What the hell!” Fanboy shouted, but you could tell he wasn’t mad, due to his laughter.

You brought the jet just a bit higher and then did a sort of loop in the sky, one that was quick in speed with high velocity. As you completed the loop, going upside down, facing the ocean for the third time today you felt a rush of adrenaline pump through your veins.

As you were finishing off the the loop, a light began to flash on the dashboard at a rapid pace, “left engine.” Then a god awful noise, that started off as a murmur, but grew into something loud and rumbling came from the back of the plane. “Payback,” you said clearly through the radio, “There’s something wrong with one of the engines!”

And just as you were levelling off, the radio made a loud shrill and then a crackling pop, and radio silence filled your helmet. You tired turning it back on, playing with the main radio in the jet, but it was no use, the light for the radio was dead.

“Fuck,” you said aloud, the sweat coming hot and fast, making a glossy film over your skin, “I’ve gotta get back.”

Noticing the check-engine light for the left side was flashing more rapidly now, you did what you were taught, and attempted to re-generate it, in hopes of it turning back on. At first, there was some hope, and that same gurgling sound from the back of the jet, but then a cloud of smoke was released into the sky, and you knew that your left engine would likely not turn back on.

Without dual engines, it was rather difficult to keep up with payback and fanboy, who were now long ahead. Even as you followed them from behind, you found it difficult to keep an eye on them as they barrelled along the pattern.

You tried another switch on the dashboard to try to get the radio back on, and for a second it worked, and you were able to scream out, “Request to land immediately, mayday, mayday,” but with the static cutting in and out, it was hard to tell what the people in the tower could hear. As you tried again, flipping the switch, the lights on the dash all went dim, something was seriously wrong with your jet.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you repeated to yourself as you tried any switch that would flip.

Back at the base, after hearing the stunt play out through the radio, rooster had attracted quite the crowd in the office room. A terrible feeling filled his head, and his heart was pounding once he heard the radio fall silent on your behalf. “y/n!” he said, grabbing the small box in-between both hands, and then he took off into the flight depot, to go find a commander.

On his way there, he ran into maverick, who was alarmed to see him pass by in such an alarmed state. “Rooster?” he asked, seeing him run by in a blur, “What’s going on?”

Rooster stopped hastily, looking at the captain with wide, scattered eyes that couldn’t seem to focus on anything in particular. Beads of sweat on his forehead, and that same nervous look on his face that presented itself every so often when rooster was particularly stressed or anxious.

Maverick recalled when Bradley was young, that same look - the one with the slightly raised brow and tucked lips, and trembling eyes that always seemed to drift from surface to surface - that usually seemed to present itself before a major baseball game or right before a math test that he hadn’t studied for. Even after all of these years, whenever rooster was distraught, he still looked at him with those same wondering eyes as when he was a child.

“Its y/n!” Bradley said, “She did some stunt and theres a problem with her engine. We’ve lost all contact with her. No one knows where she is.”

“But weren’t payback and fanboy up there with her?” he asked.

“Yeah, but last I heard, they were ordered to land immediately,” Bradly said, looking around for a commander or admiral, anyone with power who could help with the matter.

Then in the corner, the short greying commander Hinton, was sipping his evening coffee. “Commander Hinton!” Bradley shouted, running over to the old man, maverick following suit.

As Bradley begun to speak, his words coming out all slurred and jumbled, Commander Hinton hushed him, “Lieutenant,” he said calmly, but when rooster carried on, telling him things he already knew, Hinton said it more harshly, “Lieutenant!” which made the pilot straighten his posture and take a step back beside maverick.

“All we can do is wait and see if she makes it back,” the commander said dryly, leaving maverick to chase after rooster who was already in the process of running towards the airstrip.

…

There it was, the runway, the one you were incredibly glad to see, thankful that you were paying attention during takeoff to remember where you were scheduled to land.

The sky was now glowing in hues of golden orange, a heavenly shade of the tropics that you rarely got the chance to fly in. Usually, after a day of flying, the last thing you wanted to do was land, but tonight, after the flight you’ve had, you were more than relieved to see the landing strip.

The lights on the tarmac were flashing in a particular sequence, showing you where to go and when to do it. Having no radio connection to the tower made it tricky to land. You mainly were worried about another jet trying to land at the same time as you were, but when you finally touched down and parked in your designated stall, you could finally breathe.

You opened the canopy and descended the steps. Taking your first few steps on the concrete, your legs felt wobbly and unsure as you removed your helmet, setting it below the leg of your aircraft. A sigh escaped your lips,you were finally back down on earth.

From the main building, you could see rooster running out towards you at a rapid pace, his dark hair blowing in the wind, and the gorgeous night time sun reflecting on his skin. God, he’s so handsome.

Approaching you, rooster’s sprint slowed down to a jog and then later an abrupt halt, gasping for air, looking at you with his foggy eyes, displaying an unreadable emotion.

“What the hell was that?” he gasped in an distraught tone.

Rooster rarely raised his voice, especially at you, what was the matter with him? did something happen while I was up in the sky?

“What do you mean?” you replied firmly, “I landed the jet like normal!”

Rooster grunted, pinching that spot at the base of his neck that always seemed to collect stress, his arms flexing tightly in his black t-shirt. “No, y/n,” he spat, “That stunt. What the fuck was that! You disappeared from the radio!”

The force of the moment found its way into your veins, making your chest feel tight and head growing hazy. You rolled your eyes, taking a step towards your boyfriend, “God rooster, I had it all under control.”

A stout laugh escaped his lips, “Did you?” he hissed.

“Yes Bradley, I did!” you replied harshly, “I value my plane verymuch, and I took every precaution necessary to land safely!”

“You and your stunts,” rooster said hotly, shaking his head, “You’re so reckless, do you know that?!” Now he was staring at you, intensely, urgently, his eyes were pressed to yours.

You nodded, stepping forward’s rooster, “Yeah, I do! But I don’t know why you’re so mad at me?”

Rooster stepped back, letting a breath escape his lips, his face red and blotchy from anger, “Fuck y/n,” he said angrily, “You could have fucking died up there!”

“But I didn’t.Ididn’tdie, and I’m right here on the landing strip fighting with you.”

“God shadow,” rooster said, calling you by your call sign, still fuming, although now more relaxed, “What the hell would have happened if we were married? Your decisions could have killed you.”

married? hold on a minute, what did he just say?

“Married?!” you shouted, arms flailing in the air, “What the hell are you talking about rooster?”

Arms shaking, rooster shoved his hand into the pocket of his dark green trousers and pulled out a small blue box - a ring box. He opened it, flipping the top up with his opposite hand, showing it to you, “This, y/n!” he shouted, showing you the gold ring he had picked out last month, “I was going to propose tonight!” he said urgently.

You looked at rooster with quiet eyes, not making a sound, your mouth falling open from the shock of it all. did rooster justsay that he was going to propose?

Your eyes scattered down to the ring box, how it was held gently in roosters strong hands. “Rooster,” you said gently, “You were going to ask me to marry you?”

Rooster nodded, closing the box, “Yeah. I had it all planned out. We were going to walk down to the beach and just as the sun was about to set, maverick was going to do a fly-by in his p-51, and,” he paused shutting his eyes, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you. God, I’ve just been so fucking nervous lately.”

You took a step forward, taking one of roosters hands gently in yours, “Rooster,” you spoke, voice trembling, “I’m sorry for what I said.”

He shook his head, “don’t be, I overreacted. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“No,” you said, “I should be more careful, and I’m glad you care enough to tell me that. I did over-do it tonight.”

“This whole thing was a disaster,” Bradley said, looking down at the box.

“You really meant what you said?” you asked, “You wanted to marry me?”

Rooster looked up, meeting your eyes, “I want to marry you y/n.”

He held your hands in his, “I want to know what its like to wake up with you beside me every day of my life. I want to spend all of my time with you y/n, because I love you, every part of you, even your reckless stunts!”

“You’re the most important person to me, and I don’t want to loose you,” he said, eyes misty, looking at you, only you.

If rooster wouldn’t have brought his hand up to the side of your cheek to wipe the tears streaming down your face, you wouldn’t have realized that you were crying. God, you of all people, didn’t think you would be capable of crying at your own proposal.

“What are you saying rooster?” you asked, smiling gently, already sure you knew what he was going to say next.

“I’masking, shadow,” Bradley said, grinning, “Will you marry me?”

As another fat tear rolled down your cheek, a smile spread across your face. You nodded, throwing your arms around Bradley, “Yes. I would love to marry you!”

It felt so good to have your boyfriend’s,fiancé’s arms around you, his hands on your back holding you tightly towards his body. You were consumed by his scent, the way it filled your head and suddenly brought you home. You loved the way strong arms were holding you, and the way he smiled into your hair. “I love you,” he whispered into your ear.

“I love you too,” you repeated, your tears getting sopped up in rooster’s tee-shirt.

You looked to rooster with eyes of salt, and brought your lips up to his. And there the two of you stood on the tarmac, kissing. The kiss was long and slow and made electricity buzz through your veins in a sweet low tone. No matter how many times he had kissed you, each time it felt new and entrancing.

When you broke the kiss, Bradley brought back out the ring box, concentrating with tears in his eyes, as he took the gold band out of the tan cushion it was held in. You held out your your hand, wriggling your wedding finger as rooster shakily slid the band up and over your knuckle. It was a perfect fit, it was made exactly for you.

You held your hand closer to your face and looked at the ring. The diamond shone brightly in the evening sun, and it looked gorgeous on your hand, nearly too beautiful to belong to a fighter pilot!

You grinned brightly at rooster, looking up from the ring, “I can’t believe we’re engaged,” you said, looking around, the moment finally setting in, “Oh my god! we’re engaged!” you screamed.

Bradley grinned, picking you up in his arms, which earned a squeal from you, “Bradley! Put me down!” you laughed to your fiancé who was carrying you towards the flight depot, one arm supporting your back, the other beneath your legs. As Bradley waded forward, the two of you couldn’t stop grinning and gazing at one another.

Under one of the canopies where rooster had carried you to, all of your friends (that were pilots and wso’s) were there, clapping and cheering for you.

Rooster set you down, and then put his arms around you, brining you into a hug from behind. “Everyone,” he said to the other pilots and crew, gathering their attention, “We have something excitingto tell you!”

You grinned, looking up at Bradley, who'e eyes were beaming, “I think they already know rooster!”

“You guys are getting married!” phoenix said excitedly, bring you in for an an embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around your torso.

“We saw the whole thing go down on the tarmac,” bob said, giving rooster a pat on the shoulder, “Congratulations!”

Just as you were showing your colleagues the gorgeous band that rooster had picked out especially for you, there was a loud noise in the sky. You looked up, it was a jet!

Up in the sky, one of the f-18’s was doing a fly-by, soaring loudly and quickly over the depot. You looked to rooster and exchanged a glance, “Maverick,” you agreed.

I guess part of rooster’s plan did go as expected, it was during the hours of sunset, and maverick flew overhead, although it wasn’t his stunning p-51 and just an ordinary f-18, the moment was perfect, and you were one step closer to spending the rest of your life with the most important and wonderful person, rooster, the love of your life.

Can someone explain please help me figure out the songs that play in top gun: maverick? I’m talking the ones beside the soundtrack.

So far, I have:

- “let’s dance” by David Bowie

- “won’t get fooled again” by the who

- “I ain’t worried” by one republic

- “hold my hand” by lady haha

- “danger zone” Kenny loggins

PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE OTHER ONES ARE!

Especially the one where rooster (miles) walks into pennys bar. The melody of that song has been in my head for the past three days and I am BEGGING to know what it is.

Thank you babes

UPDATE: the song is “tramp” by Carla Thomas and Otis Redding. You guys are amazing!!! Thank you everyone who commented and shared me the link!

UPDATE UPDATE: I made a playlist on Apple Music called “Top Gun: Maverick” with a photo of the cast as the cover. and my pfp is a foggy, kind mountain photo. Give ‘er a listen and follow me on there too if ya want.

A Game of Pool - phoenix x bob

Summary: Bob and Phoenix are playing a friendly game of pool against Hangman and Coyote. Who will win?!

A/N: Okay, I absolutely love bob and phoenix’s dynamic. they are so good together and have a great relationship. I’d wanted to write a story with the two of them, so here it is! oh yeah, also i’ve seen the requests you guys are sending me, and im beginning to work on them. keep ‘em coming, I love writing requests! I hope you enjoy! xxx- Mac :)

“What,?” Phoenix asked, leaning laxly against the pool table, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid to loose?

Bob, her new weapon systems officer (WSO), looked put off by hangman and coyote, who were wearing nothing but smug grins with their uniforms and cocky attitudes. "Not afraid,” he said, “Just slightly discouraged.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “If we play like we fly, then we have nothing to worry about.”

Bob nodded as he coated the end of his pool cue with a thin layer of blue chalk, and hoped the games he had played back in college would pay off in this particular situation.

“Okay Trace,” Hangman said, taking a step forward with his pool cue in-between his hands, “Are we ready to get this thing on the road? There’s a gorgeous blonde over there that’s calling my name.”

There was a woman, with honey blonde hair and wispy bangs, paying penny for a margarita at the bar, and yes, she was gorgeous. But everyone at the pool table, apart from hangman of course, doubted that she would want anything to do with him.

“The only person she’s going to be calling is penny, to throw you out of here when you make her uncomfortable,” phoenix said without batting an eye.

The corners of hangman’s lips turned up into a smug grin, “you wish you were that good, Tasha,” echoing that last part while meeting phoenix’s gaze.

The only people who could rightfully address her as 'Tasha’ were a) her parents, b) her elderly neighbour who always loved to heard her stories about the men she worked with on the base, and c) rooster, whenever he was feeling particularly cocky. The two of them had known each other for years, some might say that they were rather close. But at least whenever rooster called her, he did it when they both were two sloshed from a night of drinking to remember it the next day on base.

After working so hard to make a name for herself in the navy, lieutenant natasha “phoenix” trace, did not care to be called, tash, tasha, or any variation of Natalie, which yes, did happen more often than you would expect. She simply preferred Natasha, or phoenix, anything else, especially a name that was used to purposely aggravate her, she did not appreciate. And to retaliate back, she would used the same smart-mouthed techniques that her opponent had used.

Bob looked at phoenix with a condolent look, knowing damn well how much she hated that nickname, remembering the time she confided in him that school bullies used to call her that when she was a kid.

“Whatever,” she said, looking away, “are we going to play or what?”

Coyote, hangman’s designated teammate, who honestly didn’t appear too thrilled to be playing pool on his Friday night, checked the time on his watch, “better play now before the crowd sets in at 10.”

“Ladies first,” hangman said, in a tone that certainly was not implied as chivalrous.

“Thank you bagman,” phoenix replied with underlines of sarcasm, “I’ll make sure to thank you in my victory speech.”

Phoenix bent at the waist, and held her arms steadily on the pool table, the pool cue balancing between her fingers, one, two, three then the white cue ball went powering forward into the triangle of balls, sending them every which way, making that satisfying pop! striped number thirteen, a polished orange ball, was sent straight into one of the corner pockets on the opposite side of the table.

“Nice one,” bob said, giving his partner a pat on the shoulder, “that was a great shot!”

Natasha stood up and gave bob a quick smile, and hangman one that was cocky and indiscreetly read thanks, for underestimating me you big sleaze!

Coyote was supposed to hit next, he was all primed and ready on the table, pulling back his arm to take the shot, when hangman snuck up behind him and pulled the cue back, “Actually,” he had said, “I think I’ll take the second shot.”

Coyote rolled his eyes, “Whatever, man,” disgruntled and annoyed, stepped back.

Leaning on the table, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, made sure to flex his biceps and give phoenix a wink as he primed himself for the shot. In one swift motion, he pulled his arm back and fired the dinged up white ball into the solid navy one, sending it into the middle pocket. Not as completely satisfying as the first shot, but still veryskilled.

“Bob,” hangman said coyly to the wso, “the shots all yours. Now try not to miss.”

“Its like your trying to be funny,” Bob said, eyeing his shot, “but your just not?” This comment unintentionally made a snort escape from phoenix, who in the moment, was very proud of her wso, someone who was usually pretty reserved and quiet, talking back to hangman for a change.

Bob, who had been doubting himself at the beginning, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he eyed up the table, visually calculating which ball would have the best chance of making it into the net. After some contemplation, and trying out a plethora of positions, bob took a shot, using the rail to his advantage to push one of striped balls into the pocket. It rolled quickly, nocking one of the opposite teams away from the side lines, back into the centre, then eventually, the striped ball rolled right into the pocket.

Phoenix let out a cheer, “way to go bob!” and bob grinned, finally proving the others worthy of his place, not only at the pool table, but here, in the navy, where he had always belonged.

Lt. Robert, “Bob” Floyd, was certainly not as smart-mouthed as his co-workers tended to be. Bob tended to keep to himself on the base and he was perfectly content that way. He wasn’t as loud as the others, but he was a great guy to have as a friend. Bob, skilled and humble, would help you out in a bind, whether it be overdue paperwork, trying to meet someone at a bar, or simply just a game of beach-side football, bob would be there for anyone who allowed him to be.

“Okay,” Coyote said, lining up his shot on the table, “My turn.” The solid ball closest to falling into the pocket was guarded by the infamous 8-ball, the ultimate taboo of the pool table. You would have had to take a near perfect shot with the right angles and just a little bit of luck just not to knock it in. And Coyote, a confident and coy pilot (although much nicer and willing to work in a team setting than hangman) took the shot, sending the cue ball powering towards the 8-ball, and in his favour, his shot was just strong enough to collide the two balls, sending his desired one into the pocket, and the 8-ball balancing on the edge of the rim.

“Woah!” Bob said to coyote, “You’re goodgood!”

Coyote grinned, “thanks. my old man used to own a billiards room when I was a kid. I was practically raised there.”

Bob and phoenix exchanged a glance before phoenix went up to take her next shot. “That would have been nice to know before hand,” bob whispered to phoenix. Natasha nodded, “who knew he was that good?!”

The next round was more intense than the first had been. With both natasha and Jake missing their shots, likely due to the distraction of the music in the background, which suddenly seemed to have gotten turned up a whole lot more that it was when everyone first arrived.

Fate would only allow bob to secure his shot into one of the corner pockets. And for coyote, as expected, he got the shot he had meticulously charted out. His powerful cue sent not one, but two pool balls into separate pockets. He reallycould play!

As the game played on, the score remained tight, and the trash talking was intense. Each time Hangman missed a shot (two times to be precise), his attitude grew worse, but he was still convinced that he would be the saving grace for his team.

Bob and Phoenix had two pool balls left to hit into the pockets. on phoenix’s try, she had managed to line up one of the two balls so it could easily be knocked in when bob would go to play in the next round.

Hangman came close to getting a ball in, missing the precise shot by only a few millimetre. Coyote, who had caught the attention of a woman in the bar (no not the blonde, but instead a navy diver with her hair pulled back in braids) and he was quite eager to get the game finished with for obvious reasons. “This is my last shot,” he said, “me and meg wanna get out of here.”

Hangman’s normally sly grin ran from his face as a bee gees song began to play on the bar stereo, “Come on man!” he had said, “We’ve got a game to finish!”

Coyote took a shot, popping a ball easily into one of the nets, standing up, putting his pool cue back on the wall, “And ive got to get laid!”

Phoenix and bob exchanged a place, smirking to themselves, “I did not need to know that,” thought bob, but in courtesy of being a good friend he gave coyote the the thumbs up.

“What’s the matter Hangman?” phoenix asked coyly, “can’t play us on your own?”

Jake ran a hand through his sandy hair, and put himself back together, slowly building up that cocky grin he always seemed to be wearing. “No,” he said, “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Than what it is?” bob asked.

“Its just that you guys are going to be furious when I single handedly annihilate you.”

Phoenix tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear before she leaned in for a shot, sending one of the striped balls straight into the pocket. “You sure about that, hang-man?”phoenix asked him, singing his name in the way that annoyed him the most.

He rolled his eyes and lined up his shot. He drew his arm back and then powered it forward, knocking the ball straight ahead, into, but not accurately hitting the solid ball he was aiming for. “fuck,”he cursed under his breath. It could appear that hangman was more caught up in the act of putting on a show, showing his opponents that he could fire one off, then the actual accuracy of it all.

Once hangman moved aside, bob stepped up, and took his turn. His lips were pouted ever so slightly, a habit of his that phoenix had come to notice after meeting him weeks ago. Whenever bob was thinking about something particularly complicated, or when he was trying his best to focus, which in this case, he was.But his focus paid off, hitting one of the two remaining striped balls into a pocket.

Bob and phoenix rejoiced, they had nearly won the game, now only needing to hit one ball, plus the forbidden 8-ball into one of the six nets.

Hangman took his turn now that coyote was out of the bar, probably speeding home with his date in the passenger seat of his car telling her all the things that they would do together.

No surprise, the glowing pilot, hangman, hit the ball perfectly into the corner. “Beat that Tasha,” he said to phoenix.

Natasha rolled her eyes, brushing past the comment, and did her best to score, which unsurprisingly, she did. “Call me Tasha one more time,” phoenix said harshly, “and the only think you’ll be calling me is sir.” And then like the badass phoenix is,she made the perfect shot.

Hangman was unsure by what she meant, but he smirked anyways. According to hangman himself, one of his best traits is how wellthe ladies (and the occasional guy) seemed to betroth themselves to engaging in his game of banter. Now hangman didn’t really mean the stuff he said, he just liked the feeling of getting underneath someones skin. But at times, he was jealous of natasha, she was fabulous at what she did, and hangman couldn’t handle not being the best.

Bob cheered, “One more shot, then we’ve got it!”

Hangman rolled his eyes, and then sprawled his torso all over the table, making it the biggest show imaginable. He flexed his arms again, and gave the white cue ball the perfect smouldering glare. In order to win at this rate, hangman would need to somehow get both of his solid pool balls into the nets, but lucky for bob and phoenix, they were on opposite ends of the table. The yellow one went popping in and hangman held himself smugly because of it, that same cocky look in his eyes.

“Its all your bob,” Phoenix said, giving her wso an affirming nod.

The game was now in bob’s hands. It was up to him, if he made this shot, the game would be over and him and phoenix would be declared the winners. However, the shot was rather difficult. The magic 8-ball was resting centred in the middle of the table, resting in the middle of the us navy logo that was imprinted in the felt of the table, and the cue ball was off to the side on the far end of the table. The shot would be a miracle, but bob, and his experience from long ago, gave it 'the old college try’ and miraculously managed to pop the 8-ball into one of the pockets on the far side.

“We did it!” Phoenix cheered, bringing her wso into an embrace that could only be identified as a 'bro-hug.’ An embrace where slaps on the back were insisted. Bob grinned, high-fiving his pilot, “Take that hangman!”

Hangman shorted, putting his pool cue back into its holder on the wall, “Well, I’d like to say it was a good game, but I didn’t win, so, lets just call it an alrightgame.”

Phoenix nodded at that, and shook his hand, bob following suit.

“You guys make quite the team,” Jake said soundly.

Phoenix and bob exchanged a grin. “I suppose we do,” she replied, looking brightly to her wso.

They did make a fabulous team. Bob and Phoenix. Natasha and Robert. They both understood each-other beyond speaking terms, and could read one-another’s next move based on a shared glance. they really were a great team.