Afternoon declared itself boring to every Top Gun occupant in an instant. With no training, there was no flying, and no flying meant the absence of the liberating feeling of being a free bird. This, in turn, meant no competition and, consequently, no fun.

So, when Kazansky suggested a friendly game of beach volleyball as an idea for entertainment, everyone, including Mitchell, readily agreed.

Considering the weather, I opted for a crop top and low-rise jeans.

The teams were as follows:
1st game: Thomas "Iceman" Kazansky Vs Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

2nd game: Slider Vs Goose

The 3rd game was between Kazansky and me.

Arriving at the beach, Maverick and his partner were nowhere to be found. Kazansky and his partner awaited them, both shirtless, with their dog tags gleaming in the sun.

"There you are," Slider said as he saw me approaching.

"Miss me?" I asked, catching the ball Slider tossed my way.

"No, but I surely miss playing volleyball, for which we need opponents. Where even are those two idiots?"

Slider wasn't pleased. No one was. The game was intended to dispel boredom, not exacerbate it.

I walked past Slider toward the makeshift stands, but Ice stopped me by grabbing my wrist. I raised my eyebrows in question. Leaning down, his cheeks brushing against mine, he whispered, "You dislike physical activities, but you still came. Why? To watch me play?" His deep, seductive voice made me shiver.

"In your dreams, Kazansky. In your dreams." I rolled my eyes, jogging toward the stands and giving Ice the finger when he winked.

After a few minutes of silence, Maverick and his friend finally graced us with their arrival. The game was meant to be friendly, but with Maverick and Iceman, it seemed "friendly" was not in their dictionary, while "competition" was.

The game kicked off the moment Kazansky served the ball. Maverick effortlessly received and sent the ball back. Kazansky, not one to easily accept defeat, made Maverick dive in the sand several times. After a tricky shot, resulting in Maverick diving again, he glared at Ice, who did nothing but cock an eyebrow while spinning the ball on his finger.

Maverick left the game in the middle as the sun started to descend. Maverick's friend, Nick continued the game from there. Kazansky won. In the next round, Slider's one mistake led him to lose against Bradshaw.
Slowly everyone, including Slider and Goose, departed, leaving Kazansky and me alone, for which I was grateful. We decided to play for sometime until the moon smiled down on us.

Sitting on a bench after the game, a bottle of water in hand, my body shivered from the cold wind. "May I?" I looked up at Kazansky holding a jacket - his jacket. After a brief contemplation of my chances of survival, I accepted the jacket. As it grazed my body, warmth surged through me, Ice's cologne overpowering my senses.

"Need a ride?" he asked. I shook my head. He had already crossed the stands when I called out. He stopped, and I ran to reach him, clutching the jacket for warmth.

"Kazansky?"

"Yeah," his face was as unhindered as I'd ever seen. Naked, and not a small bit desperate.

"Take me to bed or lose me forever." I couldn't help but place a hand on his cheek, my thumb grazing the soft contour of his mouth.

"Lead the way home, my lady."